


The Homestead

by SarmaArmour



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Canon, Angst, Drama & Romance, Flashbacks, Original Character Death(s), Post-Canon, Slow Burn, Torture, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-05-29 04:09:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 27,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6358756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarmaArmour/pseuds/SarmaArmour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy and the remainder of the original 100 are assigned a new mission - one that will hopefully cultivate peace on Earth and peace in their hearts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bellamy

**Author's Note:**

> This was a piece I just started writing and didn't plot out from the beginning - which was probably a mistake. So please excuse any blaring plot holes. My work is not beta'd so I appreciate any constructive criticism you have to offer. I'm enjoying writing it but I'd love to know how you feel about it - so shoot me a comment!

Bellamy strode with gentle purpose around the paddock border, as he had done every morning for the past three months. A small smile curled into the corner of his mouth as he suddenly realised - this had become his favourite part of the day.

He was alone, bar the sun waking slowly behind a haze of misty moisture and the birds chattering like excited children. The trees around him and green growth beneath his feet glistened with overnight dew. He lifted his face to the icy fresh breeze nipping across the field, welcoming the sting of it on his cheeks. It reminded him of the first time he had stepped off the dropship onto Earth.

So much had changed since then.

He surveyed the cultivated field before him and was filled with an immense sense of accomplishment and hope. Over the past few months he had learnt to accept these fleeting feelings and push away the niggling voice in the back of his head that constantly reminded him there was still work to be done.

It was important to pause and recognise what he had achieved - what they had _all_ achieved.

And that, he decided, was why he enjoyed these moments so much. It was a chance to stop and reflect before the business of the day began - a chance to acknowledge everything that had already happened and accept everything that he was - before anticipating what came next, and being who they _needed_ him to be.

It was a time of clarity and truth, and, he admitted to himself with a nod - it had become an essential ritual for his personal sanity.

His heart grew with gratitude as he headed back towards the homestead, reminding himself who he had to thank for assigning them here.

 

* * *

 

_“They need a fresh mission Abby, a fresh location – somewhere away from the politics and infighting. Somewhere they can be at peace but still have purpose.”_

_“At peace? Marcus you know that’s not possible right now.”_

_“You’re right - things are not perfect, but this is the best it’s been since we sent them down here. We need to take advantage of the current situation and start building our lives on Earth. It’s time to redirect some of our resources.”_

_“Redirect them where?” Despite her daughter’s absence from the group, Abby still felt the same urge as Marcus to find a solution for the kids. She knew better than anybody the individual weights that they were all bearing – but she was doubtful they’d be open to anything other than a frontline mission._

_“If we can just convince Bellamy it’d go a long way to getting the others on board.” Marcus mused, as if reading Abby’s thoughts._

_“On board for what exactly?” Abby asked again. Marcus was getting distracted by his own idealism._

_“A proper settlement Abby! Not a military base like Arkadia but a ranch and farm plot to feed us all, Trikru included. Indra has already offered us the land and horses; Nyko can help us cultivate medicinal plants. We can set-up a homestead and quarters for the kids to inhabit as well as appropriate infrastructure for the propagating and processing of the produce and livestock. They’ll have plenty of work to keep them…”_

_“They’ll never go for it.” Abby was often astounded by Marcus’s naivety. But somehow, it didn’t diminish him._

_“Like I said, if we can just get Bellamy to…”_

_“Get Bellamy to what?” A gruff voice inquired from the doorway._

_Abby narrowed her eyes at Marcus as Bellamy entered the command centre, his freshly wounded face searching theirs with indignant anticipation._

_“Come in, come in,” Marcus motioned for Bellamy to sit “thank-you for joining us.” Given the events of the morning and the young man’s subsequent demeanour, the Chancellor knew he had a hard sell ahead of him._

* * *

 

 

Bellamy winced at the memory, and instinctively touched the scar above his eyebrow that marked the jagged wound he had received in the scrap that morning, so long ago.

He had made a lot of stupid decisions in his life. Entering into that melee was one of them; eventually agreeing to assist with the co-ordination of the ranch was not.

The mission was not only proving productive for Skaikru and Trikru as separate clans, it was helping to further strengthen relations between them.

For Bellamy however, the ranch’s greatest success was that it was helping to mend the individual suffering of his friends.

Of course, they had experienced set-backs. There had been colossal stuff-ups, conflict, forces of nature, frustration and failures. They were never safe - nothing was ever certain, and yet as long as they had each other they could keep on going.

Bellamy smiled at the sentiment, as he walked through the homestead gate towards the quarters where his friends slept.

He could almost say, at this moment, that he felt content here - in this place, as he was, with his people. But as he stepped inside and transformed into the Bellamy they all relied on and looked to, he knew there was no denying that something was still missing from the equation, or rather – someone.

 


	2. Lincoln

 

Lincoln’s eyes lingered on Octavia’s sombre silhouette riding through the morning fog ahead of him. She had been unusually quiet since leaving their hut on the outskirts of the forest, not far from the homestead.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she demanded half-heartedly without even turning around to glare at him ungraciously. She sounded strange… flat.

He trotted closer and nudged in beside Treya, her moody mare, until he was so close his thigh grazed against Octavia’s with each rise and fall of their riding motion.  

She feigned irritation, but did not pull away.

“After the gathering you’ll speak to Abby, right?” Lincoln implored, trying not to sound too desperate.

But Octavia simply shrugged and dropped her eyes to the ground. She looked weary. There was something else too, something he couldn’t quite grasp, but he’d never recognised it in her before.

They had been through so much together, but all of this was suddenly new to them.

As they rode on Lincoln began to realise how selfish he’d been, consumed by the uneasiness and apprehension that had almost immediately overtaken him when Nyko had confirmed the news yesterday morning.

Last night he had woken in a sweat, only to find Octavia soothing him with those keen green-grey eyes and a strong arm across his heaving chest.

It hadn’t occurred to him that she’d probably been awake half the night with her own worries.

Reaching across Octavia’s torso, Lincoln lifted her chin and reassured her with a steadfast stare. She smiled weakly and they joined hands, still riding as close as they could.

Despite his own mixed emotions, Lincoln wanted Octavia to believe that everything would be okay - that they had nothing to fear and everything to wish for.

He clenched his jaw and hoped with an aching intensity that once they arrived at the homestead, and were done with the day’s proceedings, Abby could tell him what he needed to hear.

It should have been, after all, the most joyous moment of their lives together.

 

* * *

 

_“Congratulations my brother,” Nyko took his friend’s arm and gripped it heartily. He turned to Octavia, whose face was incredulous. “Your son will be as loyal as his father and as stubborn as his mother.”_

_On any other occasion Lincoln would have smiled suggestively at Octavia over Nyko’s joke, but his mind was a mess trying to make sense of what his friend had just said._

_“My son?” He stammered._

_“Are you sure?” Octavia’s voice was strained. She paced back and forward out the front of Nyko’s small quarters where they stood waiting for their work detail to begin. “Maybe I did the test wrong? I mean, I followed your instructions, but maybe we should try again, just to be certain?”_

_“Octavia,” Nyko placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You already provided me with three handfuls of each grain – that’s six attempts. I believe the results are undeniable. ”_

_Octavia bit her lip and shook her head, unsure of her emotions._

_Despite the fact that Nyko was simply substantiating what they’d already suspected, it still came as a shock._

_Octavia was pregnant._

_“How…how far am I?” she asked with a small voice._

_“I can’t tell you,” Nyko conceded. “Perhaps Abby has some way, some test to ascertain that. You should ask her when she arrives tomorrow for the gathering.”_

_Lincoln stood stock still, suddenly filled with a sickening feeling in his stomach._

_“I understand you have fears,” Nyko continued addressing them both calmly. “But this is a time to celebrate. After all you have endured, all the pain and suffering, a new life is a blessing.”_

_Octavia’s face began to soften. ”You’re right,” she whispered, slipping her hand into Lincoln’s. “We are blessed.”_

_Lincoln pulled her head into his chest and wrapped his arms around her, hoping she wouldn’t sense the hesitation in his heart or feel the fear he held for his unborn child, coursing through him._  

* * *

 

 

At the homestead, Octavia dismounted deftly and led the horses to the stables as Lincoln was mobbed by his adoring students.

Of all the work details on the ranch, the role he relished the most was teaching the orphaned Skaikru and Trikru children who lived amongst them.

Recently he had proven to be so successful in building a bond with the kids and accelerating their learning that despite his physical strength and strong work ethic, Marcus had removed him from most other work duties to concentrate his efforts on educating the orphans.

Lincoln had finally found his place.

Today was a day of rest, and a time to gather with their leaders, which meant no schooling, but Lincoln lived with the belief that the children were always learning – no matter where they were or what they were doing. And for that reason he tried to model the qualities he expected of them, all the time. Even on rest days.

As the children excitedly told him about the kill they had made last night for today’s get-together, he couldn’t help but think, however, that they were teaching him far more than he could ever teach them.

For an instant he forgot the fears that had been plaguing him since yesterday and allowed himself to get lost in the laughter and cheer of their youth.

All too soon though the delegates from Arkadia arrived and as he watched Abby step out of the rover, with her bags slung over her shoulder, the sickening feeling in his stomach returned.


	3. Clarke

 Sliding deeper into the steaming rock pool, Clarke slowly closed her eyes and let out a long breath, trying to relax every fibre of her fatigued frame. She rolled her shoulders, gently arching them backwards and lifting her chin to the sky, her lips parting in a sigh of relief as she felt her neck crack back into place.

These endless peacekeeping meetings were proving more tiring than her physical training.

True solitude like this was rare for Clarke. There was constantly somebody right beside her, or just outside the room - always within reach, always within earshot. Even now, as she bathed at the healing hot springs in the woods outside Polis, she knew her guards would be only minutes away – having realised she was missing and tracked her from her chamber. 

Clarke was never alone, and yet, she was _so_ _lonely._

She missed her people, missed her mum, her friends… those who knew her best.

Today was Gathering Day at the ranch; she smiled, imagining her mother and the other representatives from Arkadia arriving at the homestead with hungry stomachs and hopeful hearts.

They would spend the morning surveying the paddocks full of produce, the greeneries and animals. Abby would be busy with routine check-ups and re-stocks. After lunch there would be reports to make, discussions and proposals for the new rotation, and then there would be celebration. A bonfire, a feast, music, dancing, laughter and probably some love making! Clarke grinned.

Kane’s idea to develop the homestead had been the best move forward for her people and in particular, her friends. She only wished she could be there - be a part of it, share the path they were walking instead of having to walk her own.

She knew the homestead would never have been possible without her being in Polis, doing her thing, day after day. But it didn’t stop her longing for a simpler life.

As she lay in the soothing water, making the most of her false sense of freedom, Clarke cast her mind back to the last time she had visited the ranch.

 

* * *

 

_It was the summer solstice and the ranch was a hive of activity. Everywhere Clarke looked there was something different to be discovered - a new sensation to assault her senses. There was the slightly fermented scent of the horses baled feed and the raucous snorting and snuffling of the boars in their bog. The fields and garden were abundant with growth and dotted throughout them were the select Skaikru and Trikru, labouring vigorously to harvest the latest pickings._

_Clarke was overwhelmed with elation watching her people work the earth._

_She bit her lip and steeled her eyes, fighting back tears of joy._

_“Let’s take a look at the orchard,” Indra interrupted Clarke’s thoughts, for which she was grateful._

_Some of the clan ambassadors were present for the solstice festival and Clarke could not afford to show any sign of weakness, even euphoria. She had not held her position long, and it had cost her too much to get there. To lose hold now would be to lose everything._

_At the orchard the elite entourage came across a small work detail, erecting large frames above rows of young trees._

_“Clarke?” a voice questioned dubiously from beside a bench, set-up with saws._

_Whilst she had been invited to the festival, no announcement was made of her arrival, in order to try and keep things low key. Clarke couldn’t stand the fuss that was all too often made in her presence._

_A tall lanky figure lumbered towards them but was intercepted by her guards._

_“Stand down,” she stated plainly, allowing a wide smile to brighten her eyes.  “Jasper,” she cried, studying him for a moment before they shared an emphatic hug. ”You look so good,” she added, holding his shoulders back so that she could take in his tanned skin and toned muscles._

_“Says you,” he winked suggestively, eyeing off her elaborate outfit._

_Clarke rolled her eyes in discomfort. She had tried to dress as inconspicuous as possible for her trip to the ranch. But there wasn’t a lot of choice, in her position._

_“What are you working on here?” she inquired, trying to shift the attention from her attire._

_“Shade mesh,” Jasper replied with a shrug, leading her closer to the detail._

_Some of the workers had stopped to see who was making the scene. They didn’t get visitors often. When they recognised Clarke, a small murmur of voices resonated around her._

_She did not wish to distract them from what they were doing, but unfortunately it was all too common._

_“Get back to work people,” came a strong but respectful directive from behind the crowd._

_Clarke’s heart tugged at the sound of that voice and she squinted into the blinding sun, to try and get a glimpse of his face._

_But then he was right before her, those long dark curls hanging wet with sweat, just above his penetrating gaze. The sun reflected off the perspiration on his shirtless chest, and his lips curled into a cheeky smile._

_“Hello Commander,” he teased._  


* * *

 

 

“Commander! Commander!”

Clarke was rudely awoken from her daydream by her personal body-guard Nash.

“How many times have I told you not to sneak out of your chambers?”

He held up a soft towel and turned his eyes away from her.

“The morning is late, we must meet with the master for training.”

Reluctantly Clarke raised herself from the warm water and stepped into the open cloth, wrapping it around her naked body.

At least today was a meeting free day, now all she had to do was garner enough strength and discipline to practice her sword skills.

She sighed unenthusiastically and got dressed, trying to divert her thoughts from the homestead.

But just like the sun that had seared her eyeballs that day in the orchard, she couldn’t erase the visual of that sassy smile and those piercing eyes.

 

 


	4. Abby

 

Abby placed a tired hand on her colleague’s arm and smiled up at him warmly.

“Thank-you Nyko, for everything you do. It certainly makes my job easier, knowing that you’re taking care of things here at the homestead.”

The big man bowed his head humbly.

He and Abby had been working diligently the whole day, carrying out health checks and follow-ups, as well as going through the stores and assessing the medicinal lab and greenery which was developed and maintained by him and Monty.

“Now,” Abby continued, “let’s go and join the others for something to eat. I hear Harper and the kitchen crew have prepared an incredible feast.”

“Of course. There’s just one other thing.” Nyko said quietly.

“Okay…” Abby looked at him, perplexed.

Nyko ducked out of the clinic and returned with Octavia and Lincoln in tow.  Abby was pleased to see them, but suddenly realised she had missed them during their routine check-ups. She wasn’t too concerned. Some of the Trikru were still hesitant to see a Skaikru doctor and preferred Nyko to perform their medicals. It was unlike Octavia and Lincoln though.

Another thought suddenly entered her mind and was quickly confirmed by Nyko.

“Octavia is with child.”

Abby’s eyes flicked from Octavia’s to Lincoln’s and back. Her heart filled with an overwhelming elation at the promise of new life, and not just Skaikru life… this child would be the first born of both people.

Her head, however, told her to mask her emotions, simply because they were not being mirrored by the two people standing before her.

Lincoln and Octavia had endured a lot of darkness. They had been tested beyond belief, but despite Abby’s own motherly instinct telling her that they were both too young to be having a baby, she had no doubt that the two of them were eternally committed to each other and would do everything in their power to ensure their child was raised with the utmost love and care.

Taking a deep breath Abby stepped back into Doctor mode.

“How far along are you?” She asked Octavia, gesturing for them both to sit.

“I… I don’t know,” Octavia was putting on a brave face. It was unusual to see her so vulnerable, but it was understandable. “Nyko said you might be able to help with that.”

“When was your last cycle?” Abby questioned.

“I can’t remember. Months ago. It’s been irregular since we arrived on earth.”

Abby wasn’t surprised. A lot of the Skaikru women had experienced similar inconsistencies.

“I’ll have to perform a physical examination,” Abby said matter-of-factly. “And take some tests.” She turned to Nyko. “How did you diagnose the pregnancy?”

She was more curious than anything. Octavia was her first pregnant patient on earth and she had no idea how Trikru performed obstetric duties.

“I had to pee on some grain,” Octavia interjected, trying to lighten the mood. “Apparently we’re having a boy,” she added, quietly looking over at Lincoln, who squeezed her hand in his.

Abby smiled and nodded at Nyko. A hormone test. She wondered how accurate it was in determining the sex of the child.

“I’d like to see the results after, if you don’t mind,” she said as she prepared some supplies.

Nyko nodded, acknowledging her request.

“How are you feeling, overall?” The Doctor asked her patient.

“I’m fine,” Octavia lied, throwing Lincoln a look. “He’s the one freaking out.”

Lincoln had been awfully silent throughout the entire interaction but as Abby rolled up Octavia’s sleeve in order to take some blood, she noticed his face change dramatically. He clenched his jaw and stared with a steely resolve at the needle in her hand.

“These tests are perfectly safe,” she reassured him. “Without ultrasounds, they’re the only way I can get any kind of indication that the baby is healthy and developing normally.”

“What do you mean, developing normally?” Lincoln’s voice was broken.

Abby had a feeling there was something he wasn’t saying.

“Linc, what are you even thinking?” Octavia took her hand away from his and stood up. “Why can’t you just be happy for us?”

Lincoln rose to his feet and tried to put his arms around Octavia but she was having none of it.

“You’re Skaikru, Octavia, and I’m Trikru… what if… the baby…” he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Abby smiled her Doctor smile and stepped between the two of them.

“I understand your cause for concern Lincoln. But there’s no biological reason why Skaikru and Trikru can’t conceive a perfectly healthy, happy child. We’re all human after all.”

Lincoln looked slightly relieved, but Abby could tell there was something else playing on his mind.

“That’s not all your worried about though is it?” She asked gently.

Lincoln dropped his head and closed his eyes. He felt deeply ashamed. How could he be so careless, getting Octavia pregnant? There was so much at stake.

Octavia smoothed her small hand across his chest and stopped at his heart. She held it there.

“What is it Linc?” Her sweet voice soothed him back to strength.

“The Cerberus Project,” Abby suddenly realised, garnering a shocked stare from Octavia. “You’re worried about how it might affect the baby?”

Lincoln looked up at her with wild pleading eyes, his face a mess of fear and humiliation, as if he blamed himself for what the mountain men had done to him.

“Oh Linc,” Octavia cried, shaking him in frustration. “You are not that monster.”

“Octavia’s right Lincoln,” Abby felt deeply saddened that he was suffering at a time like this. She knew he would always carry the ordeal with him, probably until the day he died. But she had to hope that somehow, maybe, the tiny miracle growing inside Octavia would help him heal. “You were cleared of any kind of blood poisoning or permanent cerebral damage a _long_ time ago. Way before conception. I have no doubt that what you went through will _not_ jeopardise your baby’s wellbeing.”

Lincoln still looked gutted. “Let me run the tests and do the examination. Once we get the results, you’ll see. Everything will be fine.”

After Abby had taken Octavia’s blood and checked on her condition, she declared her roughly four months pregnant.

“It’s okay to share your news with whoever you wish to,” she said gently to them both. “You’ll start showing soon anyway.”

“If it’s alright,” Octavia replied, “we’ll wait for the results.” She said it more for Lincoln than herself, knowing that’s what he would want.

But as they stepped out of the clinic and looked over to the homestead where everyone was gathering for the nightly meal, Bellamy appeared before them.

“Hey! There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you guys, thought you’d...”  He stopped suddenly when he noticed Octavia’s drawn expression, looking from her, to Abby and Nyko, and then to Lincoln.

“What’s going on?” he asked in his protective big brother voice.


	5. Bellamy

The rest of the evening passed in a blissful blur for Bellamy.

His eyes danced and his face locked into a wide smile that lasted the entire night.

“I’m going to be an Uncle,” he said in his head over and over until he was drunk on the idea of it.

When Octavia had told him the news outside the clinic, a million things raced through his mind. At first his heart was impaled with exultation – his sister, his little O - the very person who had brought him to Earth, was nurturing a tiny life inside her. A life she had created with the man she loved.

His second thought was that Octavia and Lincoln were not wed. On the Ark, conception out of wedlock was a floatable offence. Within an instant his heart hardened and his eyes glowered at Abby. All the old emotions rose up to the surface again and he felt as if he were back in the sky. He stepped protectively to Octavia’s side with an animosity he thought he had buried. Everything he’d done for his sister would be for nothing if it came to…

“Bellamy!” Octavia yelled, smacking both her clenched fists hard across his aggression inflated chest. “What is it with you two?” She glared at both Lincoln and her brother, throwing up her hands in bewilderment and stomping off into the shadows. Lincoln followed.

“If you’re worried about the consequences of this pregnancy, Bellamy - don’t be.” Abby knew his backstory enough to get a sense of where his hostility was coming from. “We’re not on the Ark anymore. Things are different down here.” She took his arm. “You know that.”

Bellamy nodded and shot Abby a guilty look out the side of his eyes. He couldn’t say what had come over him. Just old instincts, he guessed. They were always there, and had been since the day Octavia was born. He imagined they would be a part of him forever. He just hoped he’d have better control of them one day.

Being at the homestead had helped. There was something about doing honest work, amongst nature, with the people he cared about, that helped him connect with his sense of identity. Since being out there, Bellamy had realised the single most important thing he would probably ever learn about himself.

His emotions were his Achilles heel. 

 

* * *

 

  _Slumped in his seat by the bar at Camp Arkadia, Bellamy stared into his almost empty drink – his earlier conversation with Kane and Abby swirling through his strewn thoughts._

_He shook his head and scoffed to himself at their idea. It would never work. How could it? His nose began to bleed and he sniffed - blood hitting the back of his throat creating a salty distaste on his tongue._

_How had everything become so unclear, he contemplated?_

_Clarke._

_That’s how._

_Bellamy squinted in agony at the thought of her, squeezing his temples and cradling his forehead with his hands._

_The woman simply confused him._

_All those things she’d told him when he was in the coma, thinking that he couldn’t hear. Then there was her decision to accept Roan’s offer of a union, followed by the attempt on her life and her refusal, once again, to come home to Arkadia._

_Now she was “acting” commander. Whatever that meant._

_According to Kane and Abby it meant peace, and peace meant an opportunity to start building something better here on Earth._

_He had to admit, things were a lot quieter on the Grounder front. Whatever turmoil was taking place it was mostly political. He hadn’t fired his weapon in weeks, well, not his automatic weapon anyway._

_Bellamy looked up with his half closed eyes and saw Raven scowling at him from a few metres away. He scowled right back._

_It struck him, as he scanned the busy bar, that it was mostly populated with **his** people. Not his people as in Skaikru, but **his** people, as in the remainder of the original 100. Monty, Jasper, Monroe, Miller and Murphy – to name just a few._

_He thought of something Abby had said earlier about them all suffering post-traumatic stress disorder, and wiped his bleeding nose with the back of his hand. Maybe she was right. Maybe they were all screwed up. And maybe, just maybe, their “little home on the prairie” idea might be just what his friends needed to quell the chaos._

_He finished his drink and shoved the chair out from behind him._

_Right now, however, there was only one thing he knew that would clear his mind of Clarke._

 

* * *

 

 “What’s gotten into him?” Monty nudged Jasper and made eyes at Bellamy who was leaning against the veranda door frame, surveying the festive activity inside with his arms crossed casually and a look of utter contentment on his face.

“Who knows,” Jasper shrugged. “Maybe he finally got laid.”

Monty raised his eyebrows in disapproval and took another look at Bellamy standing in the doorway.  

It was true the man had not been up to his usual antics. He was a lot calmer, more in control. They could all see it.

“No, it’s something else,” he said. “He’s been kinda weird for a while now.”

“Yeah, since the solstice festival,” Jasper agreed, shovelling in another bread roll.

“What happened at the solstice festival?” Monty couldn’t remember that far back. He’d been busy in the last four months, as most of the medicinal plants he and Nyko were growing hydroponically had come into flower during summer.

Jasper rolled his eyes at his friend’s cluelessness and spoke through a mouthful of flour. “Clarke showed up!”

“Ohhh” Monty cried as the realisation hit him. “You mean - The Commander.”

“Pfft,” Jasper smiled. “She’s just plain ol’ Clarke to me.”


	6. Clarke

Clarke sat still and straight on the tower balcony with her legs hanging beneath her. She looked out over the capital illuminated around her, whispers of light in the emptiness of the night.

She hated being inside the tower, and rarely stayed there, but she did love being out on the balcony, especially in the dark. It was the closest she had been to the stars, since dropping to Earth from the Ark so many moons ago.

Usually Clarke slept and spent what little personal time she had in a modest building on the ground, nestled in the thick of one the capital’s busiest ghettos. Nash or one of the other guards would accompany her, and they often arrived after dark, incognito.

It was tiring, trying to be somebody else, and she ached to be herself most days. She also ached for the early days on Earth, The days when she and Bellamy and the rest of the 100 were together, as a team.

She searched the horizon for any sign of light from The Homestead, and then chastised herself for being so ridiculous. It was two days travel away with mountains and rivers and forests between them – how could she possibly see anything?

Closing her eyes she tried to picture the place instead.

* * *

 

 

_The Homestead main hall was brimming with warm bodies and rich conversation._

_Laid out on the long table was an array of delightful looking dishes concocted from the amazing variety of summer produce they had harvested for the festival. Clarke had never seen so much colour and texture on one table before._

_She wished she could paint it._

_A huge boar hung on a spit over the open fireplace and the lush scent of it, filled Clarke with a hunger she hadn’t experienced in a long time._

_Everything about this place was the complete opposite of Polis. Where the capital was cold and harsh, the homestead was warm and inviting. In the city she was surrounded by strangers who knew her only for the things she’d done and the title that came with it._

_Here she was with family – the people who’d shared her story so far, seen her for whom she truly was and still accepted her, even after she had abandoned them on more than one occasion._

_Her eyes roamed over all the familiar faces - taking in their relaxed features and jovial expressions, until they finally rested on that one face that always felt like home to her._

_The last time she had seen him was a very different situation._

_Bellamy had come to the capital with the market detail, some four weeks earlier. She hadn’t even known he was in Polis until Nash interrupted a meeting between her and Olaf, ambassador of the Lake District, and escorted him into the room._

_It had been unexpected and awkward – she’d had no time to prepare herself for the sudden mix of “Clarke’s life” with the “The Commander’s life.” Bellamy being there felt out of place and he seemed on edge, which made her uneasy too. The resulting encounter was abrupt and unnatural._

_After he left she felt almost grateful, and then she was gripped with guilt._

_Now she watched him and smiled knowingly as his eyes roamed the room just as hers had seconds ago, surveying his people like a shepherd making sure his sheep were safe._

_When he caught her gaze and held it, something ignited inside her and she moved slowly through the crowd towards him._

_“Something about you is different,” she told him. But it wasn’t that his hair was longer, or his freckles darker and more widespread. It wasn’t something measurable, something concrete. It was more in the way that he was, the way that he held himself, the way that he spoke._

_“You too,” he replied._

_She sighed, readying herself for another line about her outfit.  But he surprised her._

_“This place suits you,” he said with soft eyes. “You should visit more often.”_

_Once upon a time she would have guessed straight away that he was having a dig at her, but now she wasn’t so sure. His voice was filled with an earnest insistency._

_And all of a sudden she knew what it was that was different about him._

_Away from the immediate threat of war and death, the heavy expectations of others, the need to survive and the desire to protect - Bellamy Blake had found faith in himself._

_Faith, understanding and acceptance._

_Clarke was suddenly struck with an overwhelming curiosity and her thoughts became consumed by an alluring longing to get closer to him._

_Closer to his truth._

_Closer to his strength._

_Closer to his core._

_Closer and closer until they were so close that their connection was beyond control._

_She clutched his wrist in her hands, almost dropping it when she felt his blood pump beneath the soft skin of her thumb._

_“Come with me,” she whispered and led him through the crowd, outside._

_In the shadow of the hall, she couldn’t see the intensity in his eyes and that was fine. She may have lost her way, if those eyes were alive with desire._

_“I’m sorry that I couldn’t see you in Polis, when you came… with the market detail.”_

_She was rushing._

_“I’m sorry I showed up,” his voice came from somewhere deep down inside him; buried beneath the barriers they had built to protect them, and everyone else. “I can’t be me in that place.”_

_“I know,” she nodded, as a swell of sadness shifted over her._

_It was impossible._

_She was the commander. He had found himself here._

_They existed on different earths._

_Everything they’d ever wanted was finally falling into place around them, but they were falling apart._


	7. Clarke

_They were falling apart but then…_

_…he leaned in, causing her to step backwards until the top of her shoulders were pressing into the hall wall. He paused inches away from her lips, clenching his jaw in anxious anticipation, before pleading into her eyes for approval._

_Her consent came with a soft sigh that escaped the small pout of her open mouth and the tilt of her chin towards him._

_He blazed slowly over her top lip with his, their wet mouths parted, warm and moist- crashing tenderly on top of each other, burning with endless yearning._

_It had never been like this for him before. Kissing girls was something that just happened, but kissing Clarke? He had spent way too much time thinking about this moment, about how he’d do it and what it would feel like._

_Now that it was happening his head was swimming with all those thoughts and plans and…_

_He pulled away._

_“No…” Clarke moaned desperately, “don’t stop… please” she gripped the sides of his jacket and dragged him back to her, closer than they had been before. Then she ran her hands up the side of his thin shirt, over his abdomen and chest up to the naked skin at the back of his neck, where his thick dark curls began to kink away._

_He had to tense every muscle in his body and remind himself to breath before looking back at her, his eyes dark with desire._

_“I can do better than this,” he thought aloud, eliciting a small electric laugh from Clarke._

_“Are you mocking me, princess?” he said seductively raising an eyebrow. It had been a while since he’d used that nickname._

_“Just kiss me,” she demanded breathlessly, one hand in his hair, the other pulling him into her by his bicep._

_He did what he was told, but this time it was deeper, more driven. Clarke’s hands were all over him and her body trembled beneath his hungry lips. He placed his palms flat on the wall behind her and dipped his hips to hers, dragging his lips from her lips, across her cheek bone to the taut flesh under her extended neck. He nuzzled into her skin, simultaneously pressing his pelvis into the hot spot between her thighs. Clarke almost screamed in ecstasy and, this time it was his turn to chuckle._

_But not for long._

_“Commander?” Nash must have heard her, and barrelled out of the building._

_Bellamy broke away instantly and looked down at the ground, shaking his head._

_“Seriously?” Clarke was pissed. “ **Go away** Nash!” Her voice was ragged but firm._

_The body-guard slunk off._

_Clarke was listless. She felt like she was in limbo - caught between the mesmerising seclusion of their kiss and the sudden emptiness of the cold air as Bellamy tore himself from her._

_She looked up expecting him to have wiped all signs of seduction from his expression._

_He sniffed indifferently, rubbed his hands through his hair and pressed his lips together in a disbelieving smile._

_“That’s not how I imagined this ending,” he grinned, teeth and all. She noticed that his face glowed with triumphant glee._

_He was infuriatingly sexy._


	8. Marcus

“What if I’m wrong?” Abby had been questioning herself all week. “About the baby.”

“The results came back clear, didn’t they?” Marcus asked absently. He was packing his bags for Polis and was certain they’d had this conversation at least three times already.

“But what if I’ve missed something or there are unprecedented complications?”

“You can only work with what you have Abby. Everybody appreciates that.”

“I don’t think I could bare it if something happened. They’ve already lost so much.” She looked exhausted. Marcus stopped what he was doing and stood in front of her. “They deserve every happiness,” she said quietly, her eyes meeting his.

Marcus placed both hands on Abby’s arms and gently pulled her into an embrace.

“And they will have it, Abby. All you can do is monitor the situation and make sure everyone is prepared for when the baby arrives.”

Abby nodded. She knew the science didn’t lie. All of Lincoln and Octavia’s tests had come back with normal results and she knew what to do – she had delivered countless babies on the Ark. Yet, she still couldn’t shake the uncertainty and doubt surrounding her.

“They’re so young…” she was concerned about Octavia.

“How old were you, when you had Clarke?”

“That’s different, we were on the Ark.”

“Come on Abby, life on the Ark was not ideal, you know that.”

“We weren’t at war.”

“We were barely surviving.” Marcus continued to pack his bags. “If we want to _survive_ on Earth, population growth is essential. If we want to _thrive_ on Earth then creating life and building families and communities is even more important.”

Abby sighed and lifted her eyebrows at him. She was certain they’d had _this_ conversation three times before. But she realised she didn’t mind. It was all that she loved about Marcus - his idealism and vision.

“This baby is not just a new beginning for Lincoln and Octavia, Abby. This baby is a new beginning for all of us.”

“I know… but you didn’t see them Marcus. Lincoln was afraid, and Octavia – there’s something going on with her too.”

“Bringing a baby into the world is not an easy thing to do.” Abby nodded in agreeance. “They’re strong. They’ve suffered a lot, I know. But they’re strong Abby. And they have each other. And they have all of us. That’s the key to everything.”

“Even Bellamy changed when he found out. It was like someone flicked a switch. Octavia was not happy.”

“He just wants to protect his sister. That’s who he is.”

Marcus finished packing and placed his bags at the door of their shared room.

“I worry about them,” Abby sighed – her eyes resting on his luggage. “I wish Clarke was there with them. They always seem more stable when they’re all together.”

“I know.”

“Maybe she could help. They trust her.”

“They trust you too,” Marcus said, taking her chin in his hands and peering into her eyes sincerely.

Abby was right though. The kids did work better together. But Clarke was needed in the capital. Her work was paramount to peace. Without peace the homestead couldn’t exist and everything she and her friends had sacrificed would have been in vain.

Marcus was not prepared to let that happen.

Not after everything those kids had been through, over and over again.

 

* * *

 

 

_The light of day was slowly dying. Marcus was returning from laundry detail when he noticed the familiar figure slumped over in a posture filled with anguish, his face beaten and bloodied._

_He approached the young man slowly, not wanting to alarm him with his presence. Arkadia was in turmoil, tensions were high and everywhere he looked people peered back – their eyes narrow with suspicion and anxiety. Besides, things between him and Bellamy had not been okay for weeks now. Not since Pike had been elected Chancellor._

_“Bellamy?” Marcus questioned softly, trying to be gentle and not draw too much attention at the same time. He obviously did not want to be found, having chosen an obscure out of the way corner of the camp to retreat to with his wounds. Why wasn’t he at the med bay? And who had destroyed his face? Fresh blood ran across it in streaks, masking his nose and mouth scarlet._

_“Get away from me Kane,” was all the boy could muster. His voice, however was not filled with warning, it was a desperate plea. Bellamy looked down at his hands like they were disintegrating in front of him and he shuffled away from Marcus as if he was were carrying some deadly contagious disease._

_“There’s nobody here Bellamy. Nobody can see us. It’s just you and I.” Marcus reassured him. He wanted him to know that it was safe to talk. That Bellamy could trust him, like always._

_But he almost fell backwards when the boy looked up at him._

_Beneath the blood, cuts and bruises Bellamy’s eyes were watery and wide with despair. They bore through Marcus’s skin and bone and cut to the heart._

_He didn’t know this Bellamy._

_“I failed her Marcus,” he rasped. “I failed everybody.”_

_Marcus waited,  allowing him to feel what he needed to feel._

_“Clarke’s gone. My sister… hates me. The others… I’ve led them all… astray.”_

_“No Bellamy, you don’t get to own this alone. We are all responsible.”_

_“You tried to warn me.. I...” his voice was broken._

_Marcus couldn’t think of anything else to say. He couldn’t find the words that would bring Bellamy out of himself. That was usually Clarke’s job, but Clarke wasn’t here._

_And then something came to him. Maybe it was the wrong thing, given the current situation and Bellamy’s involvement, but it felt right and true and he thought the young man would see his logic._

_He hoped._

_“Bellamy,” Marcus crouched in front of the boy and squeezed his shoulder. “I know you’re hurting, and you feel there’s no way back from this, but there is.”_

_Then he stood and offered Bellamy a hand up. He looked directly into those sad, lost eyes searching for the survivor he knew was in there somewhere. And when he felt he had connected with the Bellamy he knew, he pulled the boy up onto his two feet and spoke calmly and with purpose._

_“Ge smak doun, gyon op nodotaim.”_


	9. Bellamy

Farming was not just honest work, Bellamy had come to realise, it was good for the soul.

Never in his wildest dreams on the Ark could he have imagined himself as he was now – squinting the sweat from his eyes and flicking it from his long locks as he thrust his makeshift shovel into the ground and turned the damp, dark soil over. Dirt caked his pant legs and clung to the wet skin on his hands, arms, chest and face. He loved the smell of the freshly dug earth, but he couldn’t describe it. He’d never ever seen dirt on the Ark let alone smelt it.

Bellamy was by himself out in the open field, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he seemed to prefer it these days. The others who had been working on the winter planting detail with him had finished for the day and wandered off to the homestead to catch up with their friends and family members who had arrived for the new work rotation.

After each Gathering Day the work systems and rosters were assessed and a new rotation of personnel, both Trikru and Skaikru, were assigned positions at the homestead. The council tried to share out the responsibilities and time spent on duty, but it also took into consideration the fact that certain people were specialised in certain areas. They also rostered in downtime.

Aside from all this planning there were a few regulars who lived at the ranch now. Most of them were Bellamy’s people - Monty, Jasper, Harper, Miller and Murphy – to name just a few of the kids from the first dropship. Then there were the extras – Raven, Nyko and his cousin Cora, a few other Trikru and of course Lincoln, who did not technically live at the homestead but on the outskirts of the forest with Octavia. 

Bellamy smiled a soft wide smile that slowly crept up the side of his face at the thought of his little sister.

He shunted the shovel upright into the dirt and leant against it for a second, recalling an image from earlier in the day of Octavia and Lincoln exiting the clinic with Jackson – everyone all smiles. Lincoln had shaken the young Doctor’s hand with such spirit, that Bellamy almost laughed. It was obvious they had received good news about the results from Abby. He was pleased and relieved for them both.

“Thought you’d still be out here,” Lincoln had walked up the rows of ploughed earth so quietly that Bellamy hadn’t even noticed him. His soldier’s senses were slipping.

“I’m done,” he said picking up the shovel and placing it on the wooden cart with the rest of the planting tools. “Give me a hand with this?” he gestured to his friend.

Without speaking they took a handle each and pulled the cart laden with heavy earth moving tools up the field, past the quarters and into the open work shed.

“Time to eat,” Bellamy took his shirt out from the backside hem of his pants where it was loosely tucked. He wiped the grit from his face and torso, shook the dirt off the shirt and pulled it over his head.

Lincoln stood in front of him partly blocking his way to the homestead. “O wanted you to know that Abby’s results came back clear.”

Bellamy grinned. He couldn’t hide his excitement, even from Lincoln.

“Great,” he said, “let’s celebrate.” He stepped forward but Lincoln stopped him by shifting further into his path.

“There’s something I need to ask you first.”

“Okay.” Bellamy put his hand on his hips and waited.

“I know you had your customs on the Ark, and we have ours here.”

Bellamy raised an eyebrow.

“Sometimes our ideals differ, but not when it comes to loyalty.” Lincoln’s tone was serious, but Bellamy sensed something else in his voice – something he couldn’t quite pick.

“You’re right… but what exactly are you asking me?”

Lincoln sniffed and cleared his throat, looking Bellamy directly in the eye.

“I’m asking for your permission to pledge my loyalty… and my love… for your sister.”

Bellamy was stunned. “Pledge your loyalty…” he stammered. “As in… wed?”

Lincoln nodded.

“Octavia… and the baby… are my people now Bellamy. I don’t ever want her to feel like she doesn’t belong again. And I want my son to know that he has a place on this earth. O knows how I feel, but pledging my loyalty in ceremony means everybody else knows it too. It sends a message – that they are my responsibility now.”

Bellamy clenched his jaw and steeled his eyes to try and stop them from watering - if only Lincoln knew the weight of those words – how they had shaped and directed his life since the moment his sister was born.  

He inhaled sharply through his nose and ran his hand through his hair before looking up at his friend - his brother, with a mixture of admiration and regret.

He should have been happy. He **was** happy. It was just…

It was moments like this that awoke the sleeping demon in him – that devilish, self-doubting voice that reminded him of all the mistakes he’d made, the people he’d hurt and the lives he was accountable for. In this instance it whispered wickedly of all the wrong choices he’d made in regards to the man standing before him, asking permission to marry his sister.

He had tortured Lincoln. And yet here he was… showing Bellamy the upmost respect, knowing him and honouring his family. Bellamy looked down to the ground, fighting desperately to subdue the devil in his ear.

Keeping that demon on a leash was going to be a lifelong lesson for Bellamy, but he had one person alone to thank for making him aware of it and helping him rope it in, and that was his little sister Octavia.

He owed her his life.

 

* * *

 

 

_“You’re killing yourself!” Octavia was furious._

_“I think you’re… over exaggerating- ah!” Bellamy winced as he tried to sit up, his breath escaping him._

_Nyko grinned. He was not helping the situation._

_“You have to take him off detail,” Octavia barked at the healer._

_“Not… gonna happen”, Bellamy supported his bandaged ribs with one arm and dropped his feet to the floor._

_It was hard to talk. It was even harder to move._

_“Perhaps you can help in the kitchen for the rest of the rotation,” Nyko implored with a bemused raised eyebrow._

_“Nyko, this is not a joke.” Octavia could barely control her rage. “People die from pneumonia - especially if they don’t get rest! How can you sanction this?”_

_What had started out as a simple injury – three fractured ribs after a tumble down a steep gully whilst on a hunting trip, had become seriously complicated - probably because of his stubbornness. After the fall, Bellamy had stipulated that he would keep working, that there was too much to do and not enough hands to help out. So… he had continued on lumber detail where he was already stationed._

_None of them had ever felled trees before and there were more mishaps than Bellamy would have liked to admit. Hence, it was a pretty risky work duty and only highly competent crew were assigned. He had been working beside Fae, a feisty Trikru girl on his detail, when the cedar they were cutting with Miller came crashing in her direction. Without any hesitation Bellamy dove for the girl, pushing her and himself out of harm’s way in the last second._

_He saved her life, but the impact of their bodies and the ensuing tree branch whiplash to his chest caused the ribs to break. The aching was immense, and it probably didn’t help matters that Fae insisted she thank him for saving her life, later that night. He could have said no. But something inside him actually craved the pain._

_And then he had gone out in the rain and the dark and the cold to fix a roof above one of the sleeping quarters, because he couldn’t have his people getting sick._

_Never mind catching pneumonia himself._

_Nyko looked sheepish. But none of this was his fault. Bellamy had disregarded his advice on every occasion, including two days ago when he got the infection._

_“O… don’t take it out… on Nyko… I.. didn’t listen.” Bellamy braced himself after the effort._

_He was expecting an onslaught from Octavia. Instead she looked at him, almost with… was it pity?_

_“You’re blind, Bell. Everybody can see what you’re doing, but you. We get it. Throwing yourself into building this homestead helps you forget. It’s a distraction. But what’s the point if you end up killing yourself? Those kids out there, they look to you. Is this the kind of example you want to set? That disregarding your own life will make your problems go away?”_

_She turned on her heels and headed for the door, disgusted._

_“This place could be so much more than just a distraction, Bell. But you’re missing all of it, **all** the good we’re creating every day; you’re shutting it out by working yourself into the ground and screwing around. You have to let go, big brother.” Her cheeks were laced with tears as she walked back to him and spoke quietly and with more persistence. “You have to let go of her.”_


	10. Octavia

The main dining hall in the homestead was a commotion of voices and bodies and food. It was the first day of rotation and everyone was excited. Octavia and Lincoln liked to stay and eat, and sometimes even stay and sleep on these nights, rather than return home to their hut.

Tonight they were doing just that, and Octavia was oddly relieved.  She usually loved their trips to and from the homestead, it was a time to share stories and talk about their day. Recently though, they had been silent and strained. She hoped that would change now that Abby had confirmed that Lincoln, Octavia and the baby were all healthy and normal.

As normal as they could be, anyway.

Octavia was starving. She hadn’t worked excessively hard, but her mind had been busy and her body active enough. She longed to try some of the cheese that the preserving detail had recently matured, but Jackson had warned her off it, along with a few other foods – “just in case.”

She was so consumed by her hunger that Octavia hadn’t even noticed her brother and Lincoln were missing from the crowd, until they entered through the big double doors from the veranda, both of them almost demanding attention with their unparalleled physical presence.   

Only Octavia, however, could read between the lines of their body language and she immediately noticed some sort of deeper understanding connecting them. It was in the discerning eye contact and mutual nod, and it was in the way they came together and gripped each other’s forearms in solidarity, before going their separate ways.

Octavia almost snorted. Two badass men bonding over a baby. _How cute_.

“Have you got something to eat?” Lincoln asked as he sidled up to her. “Let me get you a plate.”

“I _have_ a plate,” she said in annoyance. He had been fussing over her ever since Nyko confirmed the pregnancy, and it was driving her mad.

“Good, then let’s get some food and sit down.”

He was acting strange, she realised. If she didn’t know him better she would say he was almost… nervous? She giggled quietly to herself at the notion as they filled their plates with food and sat down at the long table with their friends.

Once everyone was seated with their meal in front of them, the noise reached a crescendo, until the dinging sound of a crude bell cut into the conversation. The room fell silent and all eyes turned to Bellamy.

It was customary to welcome the new workers and to give thanks to all those responsible for the fulfilling fare in front of them, but Octavia’s hunger was insatiable and she couldn’t wait for words.

She could do nothing but stare at the food on her plate, which is why she didn’t hear her brother clear his throat and struggle to say, “before we eat, Lincoln wants to share something with us all.”

As soon as she realised Bellamy had stopped talking, Octavia grabbed her utensils from the table. She was about to start eating when she heard gasps and felt all eyes on her. She immediately looked up and her wide eyes met Jasper’s, who sat directly in front of her. He had a funny expression on his face which made her furrow her eyebrows quizzically before being drawn to Lincoln’s voice beside her.

“Octavia,” he said and waited like he did when he commanded her full attention.

She turned and looked at him, inhaling sharply when she saw that he had pushed his chair away and was kneeling on the ground beside her, so close that he could have rested his head on her chest.

“What are you doing?” Octavia whispered pointedly, her eyes flicking from Lincoln back to the people surrounding them. “Get up off your knees.”

But Lincoln didn’t respond the way she had envisioned. Instead he took her hands in his, looked directly into her eyes and spoke.

“Octavia Blake,” his voice was solid but his expression was soft.

The entire hall fell silent, captivated by Lincoln’s calm gaze.

Octavia opened her mouth but no words came out.

At the end of the long table Bellamy grinned. He could count on one hand the number of times his sister had been rendered speechless.

“You’re my weakness and my strength…” Lincoln continued, all within a few seconds “...my sky and my earth. I wish to be beside you even when our bones are in the ground, and our souls are in the stars.”

A single tear rolled down Octavia’s cheek.

She let it roll.

She let it roll because she wanted everyone to see – this was love. But it hadn’t been easy – and it had come at a cost.

“Will you accept my pledge of love and loyalty?”

There was a small silence.

“Yes,” Octavia finally breathed – her face a mass of pure joy and wonder. “Hell yes!” She exclaimed throwing her arms around Lincoln’s neck as he lifted her up, the celebratory sound of cheering and clapping enveloping them.

Later, after many congratulations and endless toasts, she found Bellamy amid a small group talking about the winter plantings. Octavia hung back until the others gradually wandered off, moving over to other conversations.

The two siblings looked at each other intently for a moment before Octavia punched her brother’s arm playfully.

“You _knew_ about this,” she said.

Bellamy smiled thinly and nodded.

“I’m happy for you O,” he said a little more ragged than he’d intended.

“ _Really_? So why do you look like somebody died?”

He shrugged and looked at her like he used to on the Ark when he’d told her something a thousand times before, and he _knew_ she didn’t need him to repeat it.

He looked at her like she should have known him better.

 “I’m still your baby sister, Bell.” She sniffed. “I know you think I don’t need you anymore.” Another tear rolled down her face. “But I do.” She wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. “I love you big brother.” 

He returned the hug,

“I love you too.”

And then, she dragged him out into the middle of the room to dance with all the other revellers, despite his defiant protests.


	11. Clarke

“I have some news,” Marcus smiled broadly as he exited his room and joined Clarke’s entourage in the corridor, the ensemble walking as one down the cold, dark passage.

There was a lightness and warmth in his voice that made Clarke stop and turn to him.

She waved her followers on.

“What is it?” she asked, curious.

Marcus’ eyes glinted and he placed a hand on her upper arm.

“Jasper made a general broadcast this morning, and I thought you might like to know.”

“Yes…” Clarke waited.

“Lincoln and Octavia are to be wed.”

Clarke’s mouth dropped open and her lips curled upwards. She blinked, closed her mouth and pursed her lips into an exuberant grin. She felt tears welling and grinned harder, stiffening her cheeks in order to stop the flow of emotion.

“Oh Marcus…” was all she could manage, and they hugged each other excitedly. “That’s… I don’t know… it’s… I’m so happy for them.”

Marcus laughed and put an arm around her shoulders and they almost skipped into breakfast together. It was the most cheerful Clarke had felt in months.

Despite her heavy schedule for the rest of the day, Clarke breezed through meeting after meeting. The clans even managed to reach a consensus on some of the constitutional points that had been in serious contest until recently.  She was pleased with the progress.

Every now and again she caught herself daydreaming about the update from The Homestead. She didn’t often get specific and personal news from the ranch. She was usually aware of the processes occurring and the general state of affairs – but this kind of information was precious. It helped her connect with her people.

Before she had become Commander, Clarke knew everything about her people, not her people as in Skaikru, but her people as in the remainder of the original 100. She could read them inside out and back to front. She knew them better than she knew herself.

Now, she felt so displaced. So removed from their lives, and even her own. Her friends, her family, were moving on, creating a new world for themselves and she felt left behind.

She should have been happy. She **was** happy. It was just…

It was moments like this that made her question her path. The choices she had made and the responsibility she had taken on board. She had, after all, been the one who had left her people, not the other way around. But had she really wanted all of this? Was there any hope of her having any other kind of life? Was she doomed to be alone and burdened by duty forever? Would she die without ever again feeling what she did when she was with him?

No matter how the thoughts started and the course they took, they always came back to Bellamy.

There was no sense in denying, she realised, that he was the key in her desire for something else, something better, something _more_.

She hadn’t seen him since the solstice, but every day she thought about the promise he had made and wondered whether he was still willing to keep his word.

And every day, meeting after meeting, she worried that she wouldn’t be able to keep hers.

 

* * *

 

 

_His smile nearly drove her over the edge._

_She wanted him back, wanted him pressed against her like he had been before they were so rudely interrupted._

_But there were people milling out of the hall now, hanging on the veranda in the cool air, talking and laughing. Some made their way back to their quarters and others snuck off into the shadows, hand in hand as they had done only minutes ago._

_When she looked up at him again, his face had changed. She knew this metamorphosis, had seen it many times during those first weeks and months on earth, and countless times since._

_This was not the Bellamy who had just kissed her passionately pressed against the hall wall, nor was it the new Bellamy – the Bellamy who was at peace with himself and the world around him._

_This was **her** Bellamy. _

_This was the Bellamy who had told her “who we are and who we need to be to survive are very different things.” It was the Bellamy who had not let her pull the lever in Mt Weather on her own and the Bellamy who had asked her to stay afterwards. This Bellamy had sacrificed himself to save his sworn enemy for the sake of peace, pleaded with Clarke not to agree to Roan’s union and stood amongst the ashes of the burning homestead buildings and declared that they would rebuild._

_This was the Bellamy that she had fallen in love with._

_He took her arm and pulled her to the back of the hall, out of sight and earshot of the people gathering on the porch._

_But all the resolve that he had shown seconds ago, disappeared from his features when he tried to speak._

_She realised he didn’t know what to say._

_So she spoke instead._

_“I feel like… like everything we wanted for our people is finally falling into place,” he blinked his agreement. “In Polis, we’re working on the constitution, and here… people are building a future where they’re free to get on with their lives.”_

_His eyes flicked back and forth over hers, hopeful._

_“But there’s still so much to be done Bellamy.” He swallowed and narrowed his eyes into a squint. “And I don’t think I can get on with **my** life… not just yet.”_

_She hadn’t really known what she was going to say but she knew it was the truth as soon as it came out. She couldn’t just walk away now, not after everything they’d achieved. By the look on his face, she knew Bellamy knew it too._

_But then she thought of his lips on hers and she wasn’t so sure._

_He must have seen a hint of hesitation in her eyes, because he suddenly stood up straight, laced his fingers through hers, clenched his jaw and spoke with gentle determination._

_“If you’re asking me to wait for you Clarke - I can do that.” His eyes were full of promise. “I can wait as long as you need me to.”_

_She stared at him with all she had left until he pulled her into his arms and held her close. Only then did she breathe again._

_“Once the constitution is signed by the thirteen clans and The Homestead is ready for winter,” she whispered into his ear “we’ll come back to each other and we’ll…” she faltered. “We’ll see what this is.”_

_He pulled away and then and looked at her with raised eyebrows and an all too familiar smirk._

_“Oh… I **know** what this is, princess.” _

_He was infuriatingly accurate._


	12. Marcus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning - while this story is based in canonverse, it's not canon compliant. There's a lot of stuff that does happen in line with canon but there's a lot that's not. I've really twisted Pike's character, for example, for my own purposes. I don't hate any of the characters on the show and def don't think Pike is a pyschopath, but that's just who I needed him to be, for this story. Please don't hate me.

 

“I’m glad you’re here Marcus,” Clarke passed him a bowl of greens as they sat to eat after a long day negotiating the constitution. “Honestly, I’m finding the details of these meetings more and more tedious every day. It’s nice to have someone by my side who can navigate diplomacy so efficiently.”

Marcus laughed. Clarke was an excellent leader. She could make the tough decisions and strategise like a boss - especially in an emergency. But mapping out the future of human relations amongst an entire race of people was a monumental task, even for somebody as capable as Clarke.

At least she was honest with herself about her shortcomings.

“Glad to be of use, especially if it means lightening your load, Clarke.”

The commander smiled at him appreciatively.

She had been smiling a lot more in the last few months, he realised. She seemed to be taking stock of moments rather than barging through them onto the next, like her life depended on it, like she was at war with time itself.

Marcus liked to think he and Clarke had slowly built a comfortable working relationship based on their common goals. She had supported his ideas and beliefs when the Ark crash landed, and whilst they hadn’t always agreed on the _way_ to do things – peace had been the shared ideology that connected them.

And then there was Abby.

Clarke had looked at him differently since he and her mother had begun exploring their romantic feelings for each other. At first she had eyed him suspiciously, almost like an overprotective parent, unaware of his motivations.  After a while, she seemed relieved that Abby had found somebody to love and comfort her.

Marcus may have been amused by Clarke’s reaction to her mother’s relationship, if he wasn’t aware of the underlying meaning.

She had shouldered so much responsibility since they’d sent her and the 100 to the ground.

It pained him every day to know that he was one of the ones who had made that choice. He had sent a bunch of kids into a battle for survival. He had stripped them of their innocence and youth. And he had continued to do so, even after the rest of the Skaikru had landed, even after the council had resumed controlled, even after Mt Weather, and the coup and everything else that had occurred since.

He knew they weren’t kids anymore but that didn’t change the way he felt.

Clarke had endured more loss and depravity than any twenty year old ever should. Yes, life on the Ark was not easy, but down here their humanity was all they had. And these kids had been forced to the brink of losing that, more times than he’d like to admit, often by his own hand.

He had asked them to do the unspeakable and he had seen firsthand the damage it had caused them.

Helping Clarke now, felt like nothing in the face of what they’d done for him, his people and the notion of peace in general.

 

* * *

 

 

_Marcus slammed his fist into the metal bench, clenching his teeth to try and hold back the obscenities on the tip of his tongue._

_“I knew there had to be someone else involved! It just didn’t sit right – Pike’s story about the landing, their interaction with the Ice Nation – none of it…”_

_He was disappointed with himself for not having seen it earlier. The whole thing was starting to come together now. Now that Bellamy had agreed to help him and had filled in the missing pieces – risking his life, and his sister’s, to feed Marcus the information he needed._

_“We don’t have time for this,” Octavia interrupted his internal workings. “Bellamy’s gone, and it won’t take long for Pike to find out what we did, what we know.”_

_“Bellamy’s gone?” Marcus stood upright, concern etched on his features. “Why? Where?”_

_Octavia cocked her head and raised her eyebrows. “Have you even been listening?” She scowled. “Ontari is about to execute Lexa and all of the existing night bloods. You think she’ll stop at them if anybody tries to intervene?”_

_“He’s gone to Polis.” Marcus breathed in realisation. “He’s gone to get Clarke.”_

_“He’s gone to get himself killed,” Octavia corrected - a bitterness to her voice that hinted at the stupidity of her brother’s actions. “There’s nothing we can do about that now. We have to get you to safety.”_

_“We have to stop them.” If Lexa’s night bloods were destroyed, there would be only one left who could take her place._

_His people couldn’t afford to allow Ontari the throne._

_What was Pike thinking? Marcus couldn’t understand what the farm station leader - the elected Skaikru Chancellor - could possibly seek to gain from this deal with the devil._

_“It’s too late for that,” Octavia cried, wrenching his arm and dragging him towards the hole in the wall she had been using to get in and out of the Ark for weeks now. “You have to come with me.”_

_“No! Octavia - I can’t leave my people.”_

_“He’ll kill you!”_

_“I have to believe that there’s still some good in him. I have to believe that I can reach him -like I reached your brother.” He watched as Octavia’s eyes turned to fire._

_“Are you crazy? Pike has been playing us since day one. He made a deal with the Ice Queen and her sicko night blood. Bellamy may be an ass who makes a lot of shitty decisions,” she looked down at the ground. Marcus could tell it pained her to talk about her brother. “But he’s not a psychopath like Pike.”_

_She had a point. Maybe Pike was beyond reach. But he still couldn’t leave Arkadia. There were people here who’d helped him. People that would suffer if he slunk away - people like Abby._

_“You go.” He commanded. “Get the others together. Find Bellamy. Save the night bloods if you can. Save Lexa. Do whatever is necessary to stop Ontari becoming The Commander. I’ll do what I can from in here to put an end to Pike’s plan.”_

_Octavia shook her head, dumbfounded by his decision._

_“When it’s done, you know where to meet me.”_


	13. Bellamy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out so long I split it into two. The second part of the flashback scene is pretty intense (I hope) and includes description of a fire scenario and burn wounds - just warning you. Also it’s a bit dark and angsty, for me anyway. Sorry.

After all the excitement of the rotation day and Lincoln’s proposal, things slowly returned to routine at the ranch.

As usual there was plenty of work to be done. Winter was almost upon them; although given the warm autumn they’d experienced so far, it may not turn out to be as cold as the last. Still, they needed to be prepared.

Extra hunting details had been scheduled and the preserving crew were busy smoking and pickling meat, as well as canning fruits and vegetables. Raven, Wick and their team had worked successfully on refrigeration over the summer, along with a myriad of other projects, and were now tasked with developing a large freezer storeroom.

Bellamy was officially assigned to field duty this rotation – prepping the soil and crops for winter as well as training the new rotation members on the pruning and planting details. He had an affinity with the farm duties but he enjoyed turning his hand to any of the jobs on the ranch. Hence, in his allocated time off he usually did whatever the hell he wanted – attaching himself to a hunting rotation or firewood detail, sometimes he even helped Harper and the kitchen crew, or Monty and Nyko in the hothouses. He liked to do the watering, before they developed an automatic system for that.

Sometimes he scouted for scraps for the tech crew on his outings but he rarely worked directly with them on projects. Despite the fact that he knew nothing about engineering, he couldn’t handle the intensity and innuendo in the room when Raven and Wick were working, or was it toying, with each other. He wondered how the rest of the detail did it. It was downright disturbing.

Bellamy kept busy, and it was comfortable, and he was happy. Octavia and Lincoln were to be wed at the winter solstice celebrations and he would be an uncle by mid spring. He thought about that a lot.

When he did think about it, his thoughts strangely transitioned to Clarke. He remembered their last meeting and the promises they had made to each other.

It had been four months and he hadn’t seen her once in all that time.

They’d managed to communicate indirectly through others, but it had always been so… painfully platonic. Any time her name was mentioned or he received some kind of update on her activities, he cursed himself for kissing her that night. It made everything so much more difficult – having tasted her, having held her so close and then having had her torn away so abruptly and for so long.

But, he reminded himself, if he _hadn’t_ kissed her they may never have made their commitment to come back to each other.

There may never have been the potential for something else, something better - something more.

He could live with the torture of that treasured moment, he told himself.

He’d lived with much worse - that was for sure.

After last winter, he was lucky to be alive at all.

 

* * *

 

 

_He had let go. Just like Octavia suggested._

_It was easier than he expected it to be, at first. Maybe because he had already done half the work – trying to forget._

_He busied himself with Lincoln’s combat training, spent more time alone in the woods or on the farm, stopped fooling around and getting drunk every other night and took time to read, like he used to, in another life, on the Ark._

_He still worked hard, because – well they were building a civilisation damn it, and it just felt **good**. After all the pain he’d caused, it felt **right** to use his strength to create something sacred, as opposed to taking it away._

_By the time the winter solstice arrived, they had developed enough infrastructure to support them through the cold and into the spring and summer months._

_Bellamy truly believed he had moved on – that he was ready to embrace a new life. He’d come to see the homestead for what Octavia had described to him – a second chance. Nothing was going to ruin that._

_Until the winter solstice festival brought acting commander Clarke from her posting in Polis and an old foe threatened to turn everything they’d strived for at the ranch, to dust._

_Bellamy raked his eyes over each of the crew that had just escaped from the inferno, searching their sooty faces and smoke filled eyes, offering water and blankets where he could._

_The last to enter his line of sight were Raven, Jasper and Monty – the two boys spluttering and coughing as they supported their friend away from the blazing heat of the burning homestead hall and slumped on the ground in safety._

_“Where’s Clarke?” Bellamy asked breathlessly. He hadn’t seen her in the crowd of casualties. He had been drawn away like most of the others by the decoy fires at the work shed and sleeping quarters, unaware that the fires had been deliberately lit and the real target was the people filled hall. “I haven’t seen her, or her guards.” He looked around hurriedly as he spoke._

_“Her guards are dead,” Raven cried, tears streaking down her ash covered face._

_“What?” Bellamy’s heart beat faster._

_“It’s Emerson,” Monty managed between coughs._

_“ **Emerson**?” What the hell._

_“He lit the fires. He has Clarke in the kitchen… we tried to stop him…”_

_Bellamy didn’t wait for Monty to finish. He wrenched a cloth from Lincoln’s hand, drenched it in a bucket of water, covered his nose and mouth and raged into the burning building._

_Before Lincoln could gather what he was doing, Bellamy was consumed by the flames, leaving his friends to gape in horror behind him._

_The homestead hall may have been beyond saving but he had to believe that he could still help Clarke. He had to believe that after everything they’d been through it wasn’t going to end like this._

_It was in that burning building, as he navigated through the flames and thick smoke - trying not to let the intense heat of the blaze overwhelm him, that he realised – letting go had been easy, because he hadn’t **actually** let go. _

_The anger and irrational emotions may have eased – but he still held her in his heart. If he lost her here, in this fire tonight, then he may as well burn to the ground himself._

_He saw her hands first – tied behind her back to one of the beams between the kitchen and the hall space._

_The kitchen was at the back of the building and as such, hadn’t succumbed to the fire quite as much. It was the roof that he was worried about. He’d heard it creaking and crackling as he made his way towards her. If he didn’t free her and get them both out of their soon, they’d be trapped beneath it._

_He crouched down in front of her and lifted her blackened chin._

_“Bellamy,” she rasped and then her eyes lit up with warning. “Look out”_


	14. Bellamy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said in Chap 13# this is pretty full on (well it was for me to write) and includes description of a fire scenario and burn wounds - just warning you. Also it’s a bit dark and angsty, for me anyway. Sorry.

_Bellamy glanced up just in time to see Emerson lunging at him with a large kitchen knife. Emerson took him by surprise – tackling him into the burning beam opposite Clarke._

_Within seconds Bellamy realised the mountain man had driven the knife through his shoulder with such force that he was pinned to the scorched beam. He scrunched his features at the searing agony, faintly aware of the smell of burning coth and flesh._

_A sudden image of the hall at Mt Weather after he and Clarke had pulled the lever flashed through his pain heightened brain._

_In front of him with his hand still on the knife wedged in Bellamy’s shoulder, Emerson turned to face Clarke and seethed at her through clenched teeth._

_“ **You** killed **everybody**!” he exclaimed._

_Emerson’s momentary distraction was enough for Bellamy to garner all his strength, slip his own hunting knife from its sheath on his pant hem and shunt it into the side of his attacker’s neck, right at the artery, right where he’d seen Clarke relieve Atom of his suffering, right where Charlotte had stabbed Wells and right where he had ended Dax’s life._

_“ **We** killed everybody,” he corrected over Emerson’s lifeless body._

_Adrenaline pumped through Bellamy’s body as he wrenched the knife from his shoulder with a scream, freeing himself from the post. It was hard to ignore the severe burn on his shoulder and the sickening stench of it, but he had no time to appreciate the pain._

_From the front of the hall came a resounding roar as part of the roof fell through – a fireball of flame, heat and debris flying towards them. In a flash he slashed Clarke’s ropes with his hunting knife, wrapped her in his arms and commando rolled them both behind the metal kitchen counter._

_The fireball thinned out above them._

_“Bellamy – the roof,” Clarke coughed as the creaking above them reached a crescendo._

_He flicked his eyes furiously around the kitchen, dragging them both across the floor when he found what he was looking for through the smoke and heat haze._

_Lifting the trap door he shoved Clarke in unceremoniously before sliding down the steps behind her, slamming the door and shuffling on all fours to the very back of the small earthen cellar and shielding her body with his. The ground above them shuddered and the trap door shook with the full force of the wooden construction collapsing on top of them._

_Bellamy thanked the stars above, and Monty, for the presence of the small dug out cellar his friend had devised for cold storage only a few weeks ago. He shuddered to think what would have happened to them – had it not been there._

_“You’re in shock,” Clarke’s blackened hands held him steady while he shook._

_He took the chance to study her properly – to check that she was okay and uninjured._

_It seemed she was doing the same to him because she suddenly howled with dread at the sight of the large burn from the beam._

_“Bellamy - your shoulder!”_

_He was instantly made fully aware of the searing pain and the smell of his own singed skin and muscle. Beneath the black ash on Clarke’s face he could see a rush of fear and the sense of futility cover her features. She started to sob and cough at the same time – her lungs racked with smoke._

_He clenched her fingers in his and, acutely aware of how close they were, down under the ground, beneath all of his carefully built dreams burning away; he pressed his forehead gently to hers, closed his eyes and whispered calmly to her._

_"It’s okay Clarke. I’m okay.”_

_She sniffled uncontrollably._

_“You’re okay Clarke. We’re okay.”_

_They stayed like that, heads pressed close, arms around each other, until they heard voices and the soft thud of footfalls above them._

_Somebody opened the trap door and Bellamy emerged from the cellar first, holding her hand as he helped her up._

_Somebody else put a blanket around Clarke’s shoulders and the two of them stood there oblivious to everything but the smouldering blackness, smoke and ash surrounding them, and the curl of each other’s fingers tightening together in solidarity._

_Still somebody screamed their names and then Octavia barrelled into him, a tangle of fists and tears. Beside him somebody started addressing the fleshy mess that was his shoulder. Clarke was dragged in the other direction and he felt their fingers being slowly pried apart by the distance between them._

_It wasn’t until he could no longer feel her touch that he allowed himself to cry._


	15. Marcus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter also turned out to be heavier and longer than my usual. But I decided not to split it into two. Warning – torture scenes and character death! On a side note… I’m in Australia and have only seen up to 3x08. It was such a great Bellamy episode! It’s astounding how good Bob Morley is in this role. He just gets it! I’m so scared for what’s next though – but please, no spoilers. I’ve already got the end of this fic mapped out so I’m hoping what’s happening in canon doesn’t affect me too much so I can get it finished. Thanks for reading/reviewing/following/bookmarking etc. It keeps me going.

“Well that went well!” Marcus clapped his hands together triumphantly and smiled at Clarke across from him.

Despite the painstaking pace of progress, he thoroughly enjoyed the journey. There was something about a group of representatives coming together and amicably agreeing to an act of living that just… excited him!

He was pretty certain Clarke _didn’t_ feel the same way.  She looked like she was someplace else, her eyes glazed over – staring out the balcony at the overcast sky surrounding the tower.

“Clarke?” he queried. “Roan just agreed to relax the hunting ban in sector 8 in exchange for preserved meat for his people.”

She pressed her lips together and smiled a thin, slip of a smile – her eyes still distant.

Nash entered and walked directly towards her with a calm confidence. He seemed pleased with himself.

“Commander,” The big man spoke strong and clear. “Indra has returned.” Clarke’s eyes snapped up to his. “She seeks your counsel.”

Clarke was abruptly attentive.

She stood, excused herself from the small remaining group of delegates and exited the room.

Marcus observed her quizzically. What could be so important? And where had Indra been? Now that he thought of it he hadn’t seen her at their delegations since shortly after the summer solstice festival.

Later, the group were taking a tour through one of the capital’s ghettos – talking to the residents and leaders – assessing housing and resources for the coming winter.

Clarke seemed more focused – but this was the kind of work that suited her. She was a people person not a policy maker.

“The community respects you Clarke,” Marcus said from her side as they walked causally through the laneways.

“No,” she replied. “They respect The Commander.” She sighed, hiding herself behind the mask she wore on a daily basis. “They don’t know Clarke.”

Marcus couldn’t tell if she was resentful or relieved by this realisation.

“I don’t even know Clarke anymore.” She added, quietly, but with conviction.

“Don’t say that…” he implored, gently curling a hand around her upper arm and turning to look her in the eye.

“It’s okay Marcus,” she said with resolve. And for the first time in a long time he saw in her eyes the raw certitude and determination she exuded whenever she had a plan and had set a course of action.

“All of that is going to change soon,” she finished and turned back to her tour.

Alone in his chamber that night Marcus thought about what she had said, about the importance of Clarke’s role in the scheme of things and how it had all come about.

He knew there were a number of large and inextricable events that had led to her appointment as Commander of the clans, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly responsible for putting her in that position - for inciting support and belief in her and using her reputation amongst the grounders as a way in for their people.

He also knew that if it hadn’t been for Clarke and Bellamy, things could have been very different for everybody, especially the Skaikru.

 

* * *

 

 

_There was nothing he could have done to prevent them from falling into Pike’s trap._

_The chancellor was onto him shortly after he sent Octavia on her way. He barely had enough time to get word to Abby about what was about to go down, before Hannah and Gillmer were beside him – wrestling him to the ground._

_Pike knew more than Kane realised. He knew that Bellamy had left for Polis to warn Clarke and Lexa. He knew about the meeting place._

_“Bellamy was the key to everything.” Pike sneered at Marcus as he dragged him into the cold metal hull of the dropship. ”You turned him against me.”_

_“You did that yourself,” Marcus glared at the traitor, his hands clenched behind his back where they were tied._

_“That boy had great potential Kane, but I knew he couldn’t be trusted. Not until he trusted himself.”_

_Pike had it all backwards, Marcus smirked. Bellamy was at times, an unpredictable hothead – that was undeniable. But he knew the only way to make Bellamy believe in himself and bring out the best in him, was to believe in him **first**. He had seen how it worked early on, with Clarke, and he had tried to follow her lead. _

_Before Mt Weather, the coup and everything else that had happened in between, Clarke and Bellamy had possessed a profound bond that only came from experiencing the atrocities they had, together, and sharing common values – like the survival of their people._

_Which was why, when the two of them sauntered through the parachute curtain and walked straight into Pike’s ambush – Marcus looked from one to the other, and once again placed the entire onus of the Sky People on them._

_He wished he didn’t have to, but the fact remained – if they wanted to save their people - if they wanted any chance at peace – the two of them would have to put aside the differences that had forced them apart over the past few months and work together again. They would have to somehow rekindle that unspoken understanding._

_He hoped, for all of their sake, that they could read that in his eyes._

_As soon as Bellamy saw Marcus, he rushed forward towards him._

_He was halted by Pike as he stepped from the shadows and stood between them with his semi-automatic trained at Bellamy’s chest._

_“Remove your weapon and put it on the ground.” Pike commanded._

_Hannah emerged beside the chancellor and picked up Bellamy’s pistol - her own weapon aimed at Clarke._

_“It’s **over** Pike,” Clarke declared trying to diffuse the situation. “Ontari’s dead.”_

_“It’s not over until **I** decide it’s over.”_

_He gestured for Hannah to handcuff them both._

_Afterwards, she shoved Clarke down beside Kane while Pike drew Bellamy to a stool in the corner._

_“It didn’t have to come to this, son.”_

_“Don’t call me that.”_

_“It’s not too late to do what’s best for your people.”_

_Bellamy clenched his jaw and glared at Pike before shifting his gaze to Clarke and holding it there._

_“I have **always** done what is best for us.”_

_“Good.” Pike almost seemed relieved, like the boy was finally seeing the light. “Then you’ll tell us where The Commander is.”_

_Bellamy continued to hold Clarke’s gaze. They were both silent, searching each other’s eyes for a solution._

_Marcus didn’t know what had transpired between them in Polis, after Bellamy had absconded to save Clarke and the night bloods. He had to trust that what they were telling Pike was the truth. That Ontari was dead and Lexa was safe._

_“What does it matter?” Marcus used what little information he had to try and buy them some time. “Your plan has failed Pike. Your ally has been defeated.”_

_“You know nothing, of my plan.” He stood up, producing a shock baton by his side._

_On the floor, Clarke’s eyes enlarged._

_“I know the other night bloods are dead Bellamy.” Pike turned to the boy._

_Marcus dropped his head. If it were true, Lexa was their only hope._

_“Tell me where The Commander is and we can end this,” the chancellor drew the baton around and angled it in Bellamy’s direction, flicking the charge to ensure it was ready._

_“She’s safe.” Bellamy’s eyes drifted to the baton, but his voice was unwavering._

_“I need for you tell me her location.”_

_Bellamy said nothing. He raked his eyes upwards and glowered at the man in front of him beneath dark brows and low hanging curls._

_“Suit yourself.” Pike growled and thrust the stun baton into the side of Bellamy’s neck – the force of the charge throwing the boy off the stool as he convulsed into a brief unconsciousness._

_Marcus turned his head, just in time to see Clarke scrunch her brow, purse her lips and close her eyes in anguish._

_“If he gives her position away…” Marcus whispered hurriedly, desperately._

_Clarke’s eyelids opened immediately and she glared sideways at him before shooting her gaze back to Bellamy._

_“He won’t.” When she said the words, her eyes locked steadfastly with Bellamy’s, as he slowly opened them in a haze of pain._

_Marcus watched in awe as she sent her friend a silent message of solidarity._

_Pike wrenched the boy back to the stool and began again._

_“Where is she?” he asked._

_Bellamy refused to answer._

_This time he was ready for the shock and tried to brace himself before hitting the ground again._

_Clarke clenched her jaw tight and exhaled through her nose._

_Marcus felt powerless._

_They had to protect Lexa at all costs. Even with Ontari and all the other night bloods gone, the Skai Kru’s place on the coalition and peace amongst the clans would be lost without Lexa._

_Based on the expression on Clarke’s face – he knew she felt the same. And despite everything that Bellamy had done in the past few months, she trusted that he did too._

_The question was – how far would Pike go?_

_“Stop this!” Marcus insisted after the eighth or ninth shock._

_He almost said it more for Clarke than Bellamy. She had taken to lowering her head and whimpering every time he fell to the ground in a fit, and then lifting it again, her face a mask of fortitude when he came to and his eyes sought hers out._

_It was as if she was the only thing bringing him back._

_“I’ll stop when he tells me what I need to know.”_

_Marcus didn’t know how much longer Clarke would last._

_On the tenth shock she sobbed audibly._

_He tried shuffling closer but Hannah prodded him with the tip of her firearm and motioned for him to move away._

_In front of them Bellamy was flagging. His face had fallen and it was taking him longer and longer to emerge from unconsciousness._

_“Please,” Clarke rasped. “Isn’t it obvious… he’s **not** going to tell you anything.”_

_To their surprise, Hannah stepped up to Pike and muttered something in his ear. She had been watching Clarke and Marcus the entire time, her eyes shifting between them and the dropship door as she kept watch._

_Bellamy sat up groggily, resting his body weight on one arm, his eyelids heavy with fatigue. He did what he did every time and found Clarke’s piercing blue gaze in the dinginess of the dropship hull. But she wasn’t looking at him this time, she was looking at Pike – and Pike was saying something._

_“Oh, he’ll tell me,” Pike said with a smirk and nodded at Hannah who had gone back to her place across the room._

_There was a rush of movement and Bellamy tracked his bleary eyes back to Clarke, trying to blink out the blurry vision._

_Hannah had lifted Clarke to her feet._

_Marcus heard the cock of a gun and realised Hannah had Bellamy’s pistol and was pointing it at…_

_“Clarke…” Bellamy breathed. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and opened again in seconds – his vision clear._

_“It’s okay Bellamy,” Clarke implored him with her eyes not to give in, no to give up._

_Hannah pressed the gun against her head._

_”No!” Bellamy swallowed and Marcus knew it was over. “I’ll tell you… whatever… you want,” the boy slumped in exhaustion and defeat. “Just don’t…don’t hurt her… please.”_

_Hannah grinned in satisfaction and shoved Clarke back down to the ground._

_She landed with a helpless thud._

_With one hand still on the baton, Pike heaved Bellamy up to the stool again and patted his shoulder patronisingly._

_“You’re doing the right thing, son,” he said._

_“He’s **not** … your **son** ,” a strange voice seethed from the dropship door. _

_Marcus flicked his head in that direction just in time to see Octavia hurl her sword at Pike and race towards Hannah simultaneously, her teeth gritted in an enraged roar as she slid along the floor, kicking Hannah’s legs from out underneath her, and rising to her own feet just as quickly._

_It all happened in a blur._

_Marcus looked from Octavia to Hannah and then to the others – Lincoln and Monty as they rushed through the flap to help._

_He was on his feet with Lincoln cutting his ropes before he realised that Clarke was not beside him, and Octavia was sobbing. He shuffled over to the two of them, taking in the scene before him._

_Pike was lying on the ground with Octavia’s sword impaled in his chest and blood gurgling out of his mouth. The stun gun was live in his hands._

_Marcus reached down and disengaged the weapon._

_“Why isn’t he responding?” Octavia wept over her brother’s lifeless body._

_Clarke put her arm around the younger girl and squeezed her tight._

_“Octavia, it’s okay.” Her voice was shaky but she seemed in control of her thoughts. “Right now - he’s breathing. That’s good. Okay?”_

_Octavia nodded._

_“What happened?” Marcus managed._

_“Pike flicked the stun gun right as Octavia’s sword hit.” Clarke stood up. “I think…” she shook her head. “I think … the force of the shock hit him near the temple and he…” she chewed her lip “…he hit the ground pretty hard after.”_

_Marcus looked from Bellamy’s immobile body back to Clarke._

_“We need to get him to medical,” she finished. “If he stops breathing…” her voice hitched and she covered her mouth with her hand._

_Marcus nodded and signalled for Lincoln’s help._

_Bellamy had just saved them all and there was no way he was going to let him die today._


	16. Clarke

After three whole days of constitutional meetings and trade agreements Clarke was glad to have a little downtime.

Marcus and most of the other delegates had left the city, leaving Clarke to her usual daily routine. Sometimes she found her everyday incredibly pedestrian and other times reassuringly comfortable in its repetitiveness.

The thing that kept her drive alive this time around, was the progress they had made over the last three days and hence, the impending signing of the constitution.

Not to mention Indra’s discovery and what that meant for her plans for the future.

If you could call it a plan – it was more like a sweet, sweet promise from a be-freckled, curly-haired man and a shit load of hope resting on the shoulders of a stranger she had never met.

“I found her,” Indra had told her in the tower corridor three days ago.

Clarke stared at her incredulously - her eyes and mouth agape.

“I found Luna,” Indra clarified, as if Clarke had forgotten about the entire mission. 

Clarke almost snorted. How could she forget? She had waited in anticipation for four months. Everything hung on the success of Indra’s expedition. _Everything_.

“Thank-you Indra. I’m so grateful.” Clarke said with sincerity, reaching a hand up to her friend’s arm.

“Don’t be,” Indra replied roughly.

That didn’t sound good. Clarke’s brow furrowed.  “Is she with you?” she asked nervously.

Indra shook her head.

Clarke closed her eyes and sighed.

“But she’s agreed to meet.”

Her head perked up. “Great. Can you set it up?”

“Already done,” Indra answered firmly. She was proving to be one of Clarke’s favourite people. “I’ll take you to her, four days from now, at noon.” She almost smiled then. “She’s keen to hear what you have to say.”

Clarke wanted to share her news with Marcus straight away but there was no guarantee Luna would agree to her proposal. She told herself that if the woman had come all this way she had to be relatively interested, at least. But Clarke had waited so long in silence just for Indra to find Luna, she didn’t want to jump to conclusions and ruin everything before the deal was sealed.

Patience had never been her strong point, but given that she’d spent the last four months in agony, with not even a hint of news from Indra, she figured she could hold back from telling Marcus, or anybody for that matter, just a wee bit longer.

Hopefully after tomorrow at noon, she wouldn’t have to.

 

* * *

 

 

_Clarke threw herself head first into work on the constitution after returning from the summer solstice._

_Negotiations had reached a stalemate prior to her visit to the homestead but she now had a renewed interest in the swift completion of the clan’s code of living and pushed discussions ahead with vigour._

_She was determined to see it through - then **she** could be through. Through with being the commander - through with Polis and the responsibility of so many people. _

_There was more to life than just surviving, and she wanted to explore that notion – with Bellamy._

_As time drew on, however, and the image of his eyes as they made their goodbyes became a faded memory, Clarke came to realise that walking away from her role as Commander was not going to be quite so simple._

_She couldn’t just abandon the position with no solution for her people. She’d tried that angle before and knew it wasn’t the right thing to do._

_Besides, she didn’t want chaos to ensue. That was the whole reason she’d agreed to become the Commander in the first place – to alleviate the threat of anarchy among the clans._

_She had to have a plan._

_Clarke thought back to the beginning of the entire predicament – after Pike had tortured Bellamy and Octavia had relayed what they’d all hoped would never eventuate._

_It was then that Lincoln and Indra had first told her about Luna and she had ordered a special team, headed by Lincoln, to go out in search of her._

_The mission had been unsuccessful._

_Lincoln and his crew returned empty handed. They had searched far and wide - east towards the ocean, north and south of all the areas where Luna was rumoured to have been seen._

_Nothing._

_Clarke was forced to return to a Polis on the brink of mayhem. Then after an advance by Roan and the unsuccessful attack on her life, ‘Wanheda’ had been voted in as acting Commander. She was reluctant, but with Marcus urging her on, she agreed to stand in to quell the unrest, until they could find a better alternative._

_That was nine months ago._

_Now, as she lay on her back on top of the furs in her little tin shack in the ghetto in Polis, unable to sleep as she tried desperately to grasp at the memory of Bellamy’s lips on hers, Clarke knew she had to do more than just walk away after the constitution was signed._

_Even if **she** allowed herself to abandon everybody, Bellamy wouldn’t be happy. They’d always done what was best for their people – that was the whole reason they’d never followed through with their feelings. _

_If she did this the wrong way - their dream of being together would be shattered once more. Clarke didn’t think she could suffer that happening again. They had come so close, so many times. She knew this was it – maybe their last chance at making something better together. She didn’t want to screw it up._

_If she was going to make good on her commitment to Bellamy, and be able to sustain that commitment, she needed to find Luna._

_So, she sanctioned another mission and Indra set off, not long after they had returned from the summer solstice._


	17. Octavia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I’ve mentioned - this story is non-canon even though it’s set in canon-verse. I thought I should make it clear that it doesn’t include the AI arc at all, or the Clexa developments in season 3#, which you may or may not have already picked up on. Also a warning – this chapter has mention of a major character death (it’s already happened in the show – it just happens differently in this story). There is also scenes where a major character is in a coma. I apologise for my lack of medical knowledge. I hope it’s not too terrible and doesn’t ruin the story for you. Also it’s a little longer than intended but I just couldn’t cut anything out. Let me know what you think… few more chapters and it should be complete!

The mornings became fresher and fresher and it got harder and harder for Octavia to drag herself away from the comforting warmth of Lincoln’s strong body curled into hers, flip the furs off and make way for the day.

Working the market duty may have been less physical than some of the other details, but it was still incredibly tiring. On the days they headed to Polis to sell their goods, they had to rise earlier than most, load up the carts and begin the two day trek to the city. Then they would spend the next two days bartering and the last two heading back to camp. On the seventh day they were either granted a rest day or were tasked with preparing the goods and supplies for the following round trip.

Octavia liked all the action in between, but the trip itself made her restless. She was almost five months pregnant now and Lincoln wasn’t keen on her riding long distances, so she was either had to sit on the cart to keep watch or drive the horses. She preferred to drive. Things were so quiet these days, keeping watch was unsatisfyingly uneventful.

This trip was making her even more restless, however.

Despite being on market detail since the rotation began, it was her first time actually going to market. She wondered if Abby had used her influence to manipulate the rostering slightly to ensure Octavia had all supply and prep duties the first three weeks. Not that she was complaining.

She needed this now though, needed something to break the monotony. The age old sensation of being trapped was starting to creep back into her life. It was an all too familiar feeling – but unwelcome.

Lincoln had improved after they received the results and she was grateful for the space and trust he allowed her, despite having to compromise on some things – like riding. Then there had been the general euphoria surrounding his proposal – something she truly hadn’t expected.

The last couple of days though, she’d felt something niggling inside her. It was the same something she’d noticed right at the start, when they’d first suspected she was pregnant.

But that wasn’t what was making her restless.

Once she was finished with her role at the market, Octavia was going to see Clarke to officially invite her to the wedding, and maybe get some advice. Well, that was her guise anyway. Really she was going to suss out her friend’s intentions with her brother.

Octavia hadn’t seen Clarke since the summer solstice and as far as she knew Bellamy hadn’t either.

Something had happened though. Bellamy seemed happier, sure, but that could have been attributed to the success of the homestead - the _new_ homestead that he was almost single-handedly responsible for rebuilding. She’d seen him driven before, like _dangerously_ driven. After the fires though, it wasn’t just raging determination it was soulful purpose.

But once the summer solstice festival finished there was something else - something more.

He had a look on his face that she’d never seen before.

It was like he had the answer to infinity. Like he’d tasted the future and held it on his tongue, savouring the flavour. Like he knew how the story ended but he still wanted to devour every word along the way.

Sitting on the cart, riding high through the forest, Octavia suddenly slapped herself on the forehead.  

_Of course!_

How could she be so blind?

Bellamy and Clarke had kissed!

She giggled to herself and gently smoothed a hand over her growing baby belly.

“Silly me,” she whispered softly to the small being inside her.

Her bump was becoming more and more obvious. They’d told a few people but not really their friends yet.

Octavia couldn’t explain why she was reluctant. It was that niggly feeling again. Maybe telling them all made it that much more real, and she just wasn’t ready for real yet? Like she hadn’t had time to adjust to the idea of… being a mum.

She shivered and tried to drag her thoughts back to more important matters.

Like Bellamy and Clarke.

If they had kissed – it was huge.

Octavia was well aware of the enormity of their feelings for each other. It was hard to ignore. Maybe it had started out simply as co-dependent leadership, but ever since Clarke had left after Mt Weather, Octavia had noticed something change in her brother, and Clarke too.

It was like _that_ separation in particular, at that _time_ in particular had worn cracks in their façade, exposing raw emotions that they hadn’t dared explore.

There had been countless times since, where they’d come close.

Like the time Pike had tortured Bellamy and he was left comatose for three days.

Despite her own anguish, Octavia was attentive of Clarke’s as well.

She’d felt her presence in the med bay, lingering by the door when she should have been at the council meetings trying to come up with a solution. She’d seen her face contort in horror as she tentatively touched the cold, pale skin of his forearm, shaking as she checked the needle feeding him fluids.

She’d heard Clarke say things to her brother, thinking that he couldn’t hear her.

But Octavia knew Bellamy had heard them too, because she’d done the same thing and he’d since told her so.

 

* * *

 

 

_As they prepared to leave the dropship, Clarke pulled Octavia aside._

_“We need to get Lexa to camp too, I’ll go back to the bunker, you stay with…”_

_“Don’t bother.”_

_Clarke began to protest but Octavia cut her off._

_“Her fight is over Clarke,” Octavia exhaled loudly. “That’s why we came… to tell you. Nyko’s taking Lexa’s body back to TonDC. He’ll send word to Indra. ”_

_Clarke closed her eyes and looked down to the ground._

_Everything was a mess._

_Lexa was gone. The clans and Arkadia were leaderless. Bellamy was..._

_She shifted her eyes to his inert form, lying limp on the stretcher being lifted by Lincoln and Kane._

_He had suffered for nothing._

_Back at camp, Kane had work to do. Once they saw Pike’s covered body and realised their chancellor was dead, the people became unsettled._

_After delivering Bellamy to the clinic, Kane, Lincoln and Monty set about gathering their allies, releasing the prisoners and appeasing the crowd. Hannah was detained along with Gillmer and some of the other members of Farm Station who had vehemently supported Pike._

_At the clinic Clarke rapidly relayed the details of Bellamy’s torture to Abby as they transferred him to a cot and began to assess his consciousness._

_Octavia stayed by his side the whole time, gripping his hand in hers._

_She was vaguely aware of someone else in the room too, sitting in the corner, not moving, not speaking, just there._

_“The good news is - he’s breathing on his own, his vitals are stable and his pupils are responding normally.” Abby was talking, but Octavia could barely absorb the information._

_“And the bad news?”_

_“Without the proper equipment, I can’t determine the extent of his injuries…” Abby trailed off. “If he comes out of this alive, Octavia, there’s a possibility he could be brain damaged.”_

_Octavia clenched her jaw and furrowed her brow, looking down at her brother lying helpless in front of her._

_She was reminded of the time he got sick on the dropship and told her he was scared. She thought he’d looked vulnerable then – but it was nothing compared to now._

_“Of course, he could also wake in minutes, without any lasting effects.” Abby continued with her hand on Octavia’s shoulder. “His body is trying to heal itself Octavia. We need to give him time.”_

_Hours later, Lincoln entered with Indra._

_He slipped his arms around her softly, kissed the hair on top of her head and held her silently._

_“Tell me what to do,” he said after minutes._

_“There’s nothing. We can only wait.”_

_Lincoln cupped her chin in his hands and gripped one of her arms around the bicep._

_“I have to do something.”_

_“Help Clarke. Get her what she needs,” Octavia gestured in her friend’s direction. She knew that’s what her brother would want._

_Lincoln walked back towards the door where Indra stood beside Clarke._

_Octavia listened intently to their conversation – her eyes lingering on Bellamy’s lifeless frame._

_“So, what did you want to tell me,” Clarke drawled, her voice weary with the weight of unrest._

_“There may be another way to stop the turmoil,” Lincoln offered._

_“Go on,” Clarke prompted unenthusiastically._

_Lincoln looked to Indra and she encouraged him with her eyes._

_“There is another night blood,” he said plainly. “One who can rightfully become Heda and prevent disorder among the clans.”_

_Octavia’s head snapped to the side. Another one? Lincoln had never mentioned another night blood._

_Clarke was suddenly alert._

_They told her about Luna and how she had fled the conclave before Lexa was ascended._

_Octavia made no secret of the fact that she was eavesdropping._

_“But Lincoln, you said she wasn’t a warrior,” she called out from beside Bellamy’s bed._

_“Do you think she’ll agree to come back?” Clarke asked with care. If she were Luna, she would stay hidden, as far away as possible. Or would she?_

_“We have to find her first,” Indra stated._

_They agreed to keep it from the council for now, until Lincoln had a chance to at least make contact with Luna and her clan._

_Octavia was reluctant to let him go, but he was their best chance at finding her._

_“Be strong,” he said before he left, kissing her on the forehead._

_Lincoln had been gone for three days and Bellamy still hadn’t woken._

_They received news from Polis that the situation was getting worse. The city was descending into anarchy and some of the ambassadors had already met bloody deaths. The Ice Nation, under King Roan, called upon Skaikru and Wanheda to return to Polis and answer for the crimes they had committed._

_Octavia snorted. Had they forgotten that their satan spawned night blood Ontari started all of this? Who would answer to her crimes?_

_The council agreed they had to do something. Kane wanted to go but Clarke stopped him._

_“It should be me,” she said. She had left the med bay maybe twice for two important council meetings. Octavia was certain she hadn’t slept._

_“There’s nothing I can do here anyway.”_

_That night, after Abby had done her routine check and assured Octavia everything was still stable, she heard Jackson and the Doc in the corner having a quiet conversation._

_“How long do we keep feeding him fluids, Abby?”_

_“As long as it takes,” she heard the Doc say pointedly._

_“He could be like this for weeks, months – we don’t even know if he’ll come out of it… and if he does...”_

_“That boy sacrificed himself for all of us Jackson. I’m not about to give up on him.”_

_“Look at the good it did,” Jackson muttered and Octavia sneered._

_He was right. It had been for nothing._

_After they left, the futility of it all flooded her and Octavia felt tears burning down her cheek. She wiped them away and grit her teeth._

_“Please come back to me Bell. Please… wake up,” despite her efforts, more tears escaped her eyes. “I know I told you that you were to dead me… but the truth is… I need you to **live**.” She rested her forehead on his shoulder, her hair brushing his cheek. “I forgive you big brother. I forgive you.”_

_Later, Clarke was ready to leave._

_She stepped through the med bay door, a mournful shroud marring her usually bright eyes._

_They hugged, almost emotionlessly, and Octavia could tell Clarke was teetering on the edge of the abyss, trying not to cave into the misery that threatened to overwhelm her at any moment._

_“Can you… give me a minute,” she sounded almost ashamed to ask Octavia to leave her brother’s side._

_Octavia stood by the door where Clarke had stayed almost the entire time since they had returned from the dropship. The two of them not talking, not touching, and barely looking at each other._

_“I don’t want to leave you… a-again,” Clarke shuddered. “But this is kind of our thing… right?” She took his closest hand in hers and trying not to think about how cold it was, traced circles in the inside of his open palm. “We go backwards and forwards – building walls and breaking them down. Dancing around what we really…” she stopped then and her eyes wandered over his still form. “It can’t end like this. I can’t leave you like this…” she sniffled, stood up, ever so slowly curled her fingers through the first few strands of hair on his forehead and bent down to his ear to whisper something intimate._

_Stunned by the sudden show of affection, Octavia stared from the doorway. She couldn’t hear it, but she was certain she knew what Clarke had just said to her brother._

_She watched with her mouth agape as Clarke raked her eyes over his restful face, waiting for a response, before she pressed her lips to Bellamy’s forehead, turned on her feet and walked away, muttering a barely audible “may we meet again,” as she marched out of the med bay without making eye contact with Octavia._

_A few hours later, Bellamy woke up._


	18. Bellamy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you all for your comments/follows/faves/reads etc. 3x09 was devastating, and let me assure you I will NOT be writing that death into this fic. 3x10 was so tense. This season has been incredible and I’m hanging out so badly for the crew to get back together. Hope that happens in 3x11, please no spoilers though! :D

Neither of the two were particularly happy that Octavia was spending the entire week away in Polis, but both agreed it was the perfect opportunity to work on extending the hut.

Bellamy had spoken to Lincoln about it not long after his proposal to Octavia, offering his labour as a “wedding gift.” They had not intended to keep it a secret from her, but once she was assigned market detail for the rotation, Lincoln suggested her week away would be a good time to work on the expansion, without having to disrupt her – or her disrupt them.

They worked late, after finishing their respective details at the ranch. Bellamy returned to the homestead well after dark and collapsed into his cot to ready himself for toiling on the crops the next morning.

On the fifth day Miller, Monroe and Murphy joined them, after recognising Bellamy’s unusual tardiness in the mornings and his absence from the evening meal. Octavia and Lincoln hadn’t publicly announced the pregnancy, so Bellamy had refrained from informing anybody about the building works, but it was clear that these three had cottoned on.

Octavia’s bump was becoming more and more obvious but she wasn’t making a huge effort to hide it, much to Bellamy’s delight.

Not only was he dying to brag about being the _only_ Skaikru Uncle amongst them, but it felt phenomenal to be able to witness Octavia growing into a mother – not just physically, but as a person. Also, there was something so liberating about the fact that Octavia _wasn’t_ trying to hide anything – because she didn’t _have_ to hide anything.

His mother’s pregnancy was entirely the opposite.

It was a tense nine months and he was glad Octavia did not have to endure a similar experience.

The anxiety didn’t end once Octavia was born either. In fact, as soon as he held his baby sister in his arms – the overwhelming sense of responsibility he felt for her, overtook his young life.

Ironic how one colossal error in his judgement had eventually brought them both to the ground where they had equally cemented their strength of character, found love, purpose and an even bigger family – things that may have never been possible for them on the Ark.

Bellamy had been thinking a lot about family lately.

He both loved and hated the fact that the sometimes monotonous work on the homestead and the lack of urgency and need for immediate survival in their daily lives, leant itself to endless internal ponderings.

When the 100 had first landed on earth, there was little time to calculate and process – most of their decisions and strategies were knee-jerk reactions. In hindsight some of their choices were rash and unnecessary. He tried not to look back too much, unless he was faced with a repeat situation and wanted to draw on the success or failure of the previous experience.

Ever since the summer solstice, Octavia’s pregnancy and Lincoln’s proposal, he had been looking _forward_ more than usual though – daydreaming about what might be ahead - the possibility of a real life with Clarke. He’d had some similar thoughts before, but they were always clouded with uncertainty. He couldn’t really ever see past just _physically_ being with her. Not that he minded. Those visions were always worth indulging.

Now, however, Bellamy could see a way, so much clearer, full of rich detail and sensation. Everything he hadn’t even realised he wanted, let alone dreamed he could have, was so close he could almost touch it.

Bellamy begged the stars above not to let it slip between his fingers, like it had so many times before.

He didn’t think he would be able to rebuild himself if he lost everything again.

Not this time.

 

* * *

 

 

_The morning after the fire Bellamy and Clarke stood shoulder to shoulder, amongst the charred remains of the homestead hall and declared to all of their people, with united determination, that their dreams would not be deterred - that like the legendary phoenix - they would rise up again from the ashes._

_And that’s exactly what they did._

_Bellamy was grateful that Emerson’s life was the only one lost that day. He couldn’t help grieve, however, for everything they had achieved – all the blood, sweat and tears they had invested in the homestead infrastructure._

_He couldn’t help but feel that it wasn’t just their time and resources that had gone up in smoke; it was the sense of place itself – the sanctuary of it, the homeliness._

_Somehow Emerson had violated the haven they had created – tainted their safety and sense of belonging. So, it wasn’t just buildings that Bellamy had to help restore - it was faith, hope and a sense of community. He needed people to believe in those things again and to do that he had to believe in them himself._

_So he became a believer._

_And he poured his heart and soul into resurrecting their home._

_It was all or nothing._

_Emerson’s life had been the only one lost that day, but Bellamy himself, couldn’t help think that he had lost so much more than life itself._

_He had lost the very thing that made his life bearable._

_He had lost Clarke._

_At first he thought they’d finally found each other – embracing down under the ground, beneath all of his carefully built dreams burning away._

_He thought they’d finally be able to figure out what it truly was between them._

_They’d come close before – but not as close as this._

_They had clung to each other until they were pulled apart by circumstance, and the next morning, as though everything before had been imagined, they automatically returned to their respective roles._

_They were side by side.  They shared a common goal. They did it for their people. They were together, but not **together**._

_Two days after the fire, Clarke came to him – her newly appointed guard, Nash, but metres away._

_She had news from Polis._

_“They want me to officially become Commander,” she stated unemotionally, without even looking him in the eye._

_Bellamy stared at the top of her eyelids, not saying a word._

_She couldn’t handle his silence._

_“Tell me you don’t want me to go, Bellamy,” her voice was on edge. “Say the words and I’ll stay.”_

_She looked at him then and wished she hadn’t. His eyes were drowned with sorrow and loss._

_How many times had he asked her to stay - to come home to her people?_

_Not this time._

_“I can’t do that Clarke.” He raised his eyebrows and shook his head ever so slightly.  “You know that.”_

_She nodded feebly, her lip trembling._

_He didn’t blame her. He didn’t blame anybody._

_They both knew it was the right thing to do._

_Asking her to stay would be selfish._

_Especially now, when their people were so vulnerable and the clans were relying on her to hold them together._

_Her people needed her. Hell - **everybody** needed her._

_And the homestead needed him._

_It was impossible. **They** were impossible._


	19. Octavia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for all the angst of last chapter, it’s just so them, I can’t avoid it. There is more here but some hope too. This is the second last chapter. Please keep commenting/faving/following etc – it really makes my day.

It was late in the afternoon on her first day in Polis that Octavia finally got to see Clarke.

After her market duty was complete, she split from the rest of the detail to catch up with Indra. Jasper had heard whisper of her return over the regular broadcasts between Arkadia and the homestead. Octavia knew her former master had been away since the summer solstice but she wasn’t fully aware what Indra had been doing or where she had been.

It wasn’t unusual, their lives rarely intersected these days, but Octavia was still curious.

She wondered what Indra’s reaction would be to her current physical state. Their bond was forged in battle and based on their mutual respect as warriors, but if Indra thought this pregnancy made her vulnerable then Octavia had no qualms cutting her loose.

The baby was her life now. The baby was her strength.

As it was, she need not have been concerned. Indra took one look at her barely there belly, gripped Octavia’s forearm firmly and smiled wickedly. “My sister,” was all she said, stressing the word _sister_ with a fierce hiss.

They spoke briskly, as always, and Octavia asked her about her trip.

“What do you know of that?” Indra eyed her inquisitively.

“Enough to get me in trouble,” she bluffed.

Indra huffed in irritated amusement.

“I hope, for your sake, your child has half your impudence, Octavia.”

They shared a knowing smile.

“You should ask The Commander, when you see her, if you really wish to know.”

That piqued Octavia’s interest. 

Indra left her at the small shanty in the outer ghetto of Polis.

She found Clarke reading on her bed.

“Octavia?” she questioned as the younger woman stepped closer, into the light.

Clarke gasped softly, as she took in her friend’s lithe frame and the small bump protruding from her abdomen.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Nice to see you too,” Octavia huffed, holding her arms out as Clarke rushed forward for a hug.

They talked briefly about the union and Clarke prattled on about the constitution and if all went well the signing would be two days after the ceremony and there would be weeks of preparation… etc, etc etc.

“You better be at this damn wedding,” Octavia warned her with dark eyes. Then, as an afterthought, she said quietly, “Bellamy’s giving me away.”

She sounded almost forlorn.

“Is something wrong Octavia?” Clarke took her hand but Octavia remained silent for a while.

“I wish my mum was here,” she replied. It seemed like the strangest thing to say, given her past, yet the most natural thing to say given her circumstances. She realised, as the words tumbled out of her mouth, that this was what had been niggling away at her all these weeks. “It’s just… I don’t know… how to do this.” She trailed her palm over the small bump.

“Nobody knows Octavia,” Clarke placed a steady hand on her friend’s shoulder. “But I can’t think of two people who love each other as fiercely as you and Lincoln love each other, who will care for and protect a baby with just as much intensity.”

Octavia thought for a minute before looking up at Clarke, her daring eyes filled with subliminal meaning.

“I can.”

Clarke blushed and took her hand away.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered, standing and walking to a cart filled with refreshments. She poured them both a drink of water.

“Oh, _come on_ Clarke, I’m not a fool.” Octavia narrowed her eyes. “I know you kissed my brother,” she bluffed again, but this time she was rewarded.

Clarke blushed for a second time.

“Actually, he kissed _me_.”

“What? Ew! Go Bellamy.” Octavia went through a range of responses. “So… what happened? I mean… why aren’t you together? I get that you’re commander and all, but you could still make it work… right?”

Clarke sighed. They hadn’t specifically stated that they wouldn’t tell anyone what had happened between them or their plans, and Octavia had come a long way to talk. She’d shared something private with Clarke and it would be nice to be able to do the same. Besides, she was bursting to tell somebody.

She didn’t think Bellamy would mind her bonding with his little sister.

“We agreed to wait until after the winter solstice and the signing of the constitution.”

Octavia groaned.

“Are you _serious_? My _children_ will be old and grey before you two get your shit together!”

Clarke laughed.

Octavia joined her momentarily, before becoming quiet again.

“How _will_ you make it work though?” she queried. “You can’t take him away from that place Clarke – that place is his heart.”

“I know,” Clarke smiled. “I’m working on that.”

“Does it have anything to do with Indra’s trip?” Octavia eyed her curiously.

“Yes,” Clarke stated but didn’t give anything away.

 “Whatever,” Octavia shrugged nonchalantly and then in an instant turned back to her friend with fire in her eyes. “Just don’t screw it up this time Clarke. It will crush him. And _I_ will crush _you_.”

 

* * *

 

 

_He came out of the coma with a stern squeeze of her hand._

_Octavia was, at first, surprised by the force of his grip, she had expected him to wake slowly and with little strength._

_It wasn’t until after he relaxed slightly and she stopped wincing that she realised what it meant._

_She looked at his face but his eyes were still closed._

_Not wanting to let go of his hand, she called out._

_“Abby! Jackson! Somebody…get the hell in here!”_

_Nobody was around._

_She jumped off the cot she had been sitting on beside Bellamy, and tried stretching for the buzzer, her hand still clenched in his because she did not want to let him go._

_The buzzer was out of her reach._

_In the end she used the tip of her sword to smack the alarm and waited tensely for the medical crew to arrive. One hand ploughed over his matted curls, the other squeezed his, just to make sure he was still squeezing back._

_“Stay with me big brother…” she whispered shrilly to his still unopened eyes. “Stay with me.”_

_A rush of people entered the room and she was bombarded with questions. They tried to pry her away, but she remained clinging to his hand._

_When he finally blinked open his sleep soaked eyes, he didn’t find the piercing blue that he’d blacked out to, but his sister’s keen greens gazing down at him._

_His dry lips parted and his throat bobbed as he tried to say her name, but all he could manage was to mouth a simple, silent “O.”_

_It was sweet enough._

_After a magnitude of tests, and endless prodding and poking, Bellamy drifted off to sleep, only to jump back out again, his face emblazoned with fear._

_“It’s okay, Bell.” Octavia said beside him, taking his hand once more. “Abby said you need your rest. I’m not going anywhere.” She squeezed gently for emphasis._

_“Thank-you,” he mouthed weakly and succumbed to sleep._

_Two days later he was sitting up in bed and talking, albeit with more rough huskiness than usual._

_They spoke about Lexa and the current situation, skirting around Clarke and Lincoln’s departure._

_“I’m sorry I hurt you O.” he said with care one morning as he took his first steps outside. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”_

_“You heard me say that?” Octavia asked, leaning next to him on the Ark wall._

_He nodded and looked away, his eyes trailing Abby, Kane and one of the guard members as they moved towards the Ark from the main gate, where the guard member had just returned from outside the wall._

_“There has to be a better way!” Abby declared. “I can’t let he go through with this… it’s, it’s ridiculous. Marcus… she’s too young.”_

_Bellamy’s face contorted into alarm at the reference to Clarke. Octavia stepped forward and interrupted the group on his behalf._

_“What’s going on?” she asked hooking her hand around Kane’s arm to get his attention and stop him moving forward._

_He glanced at her and then to Bellamy standing back, no longer leaning on the Ark for support._

_“The clans have reached a consensus for joint leadership of the coalition.”_

_“That’s good right?”_

_“It involves a deal between us and Azgeda.”_

_“What kind of deal?” Octavia wasn’t confident about the answer._

_Marcus lowered his voice, his eyes still on Bellamy._

_“Clarke has agreed to pledge her loyalty to Roan, in exchange for…”_

_“Pledge her **loyalty**?” Octavia almost yelped. _

_She knew what that meant. Most of them knew what that meant. It was only a few months ago they’d been invited to a grounder village to witness **exactly** what that meant. Octavia spun around to seek out her brother, realising within a flurry of seconds that he had **heard** everything she’d said to him while he was in the coma - which meant that he had probably heard everything **Clarke** had said to him while he was in the coma. _

_Bellamy was gone._

_Octavia found him in the clinic gathering his jacket and weapons from the locker._

_“I’m coming with you,” she said, not bothering to try and stop him._

_“No, O, I need to do this alone.”_

_“Like hell. You can barely even walk.”_

_They left immediately, without informing the council._

_At the capital, almost two days later, Indra led them to a place in the forest just outside the city._

_“She comes here sometimes, to escape.” Indra explained._

_They dismounted, tied up the horses and began to follow her through a gap in two giant boulders._

_“Just Octavia,” Indra advised, gesturing for Bellamy to stay where he was._

_She led Octavia into a small area surrounded by smaller boulders and trees twisted with lush vines._

_Clarke was bathing in a small pool of steaming water, with moss covered rocks around it. She reached for a knife on the water’s edge when she heard footsteps approach, and then sighed with relief and clanged it back onto the rock when she saw them._

_“Octavia? What are you doing here?”_

_“I came for Bellamy.”_

_“Bellamy?” Clarke grabbed a cloth beside her and rose from the opaque water, covering her naked body. “He’s awake?”_

_“You didn’t know?”_

_“I hadn’t heard. Is he here?” She looked around, clenching the towel closer to her body._

_“Of course he’s here!” Octavia snorted. “He came to stop you doing something stupid.”_

_“I had no choice,” she muttered, pulling on her clothes._

_On the way to the hot springs, Indra had told Octavia about Lincoln’s return and their failure to find Luna._

_In the clearing, Bellamy stood up when he heard the crunch of foliage underfoot._

_Clarke stepped between the boulders in bare feet; the ends of her hair held droplets of water and left damp patches that soaked into her shirt just above her breasts. One sleeve had slipped off her shoulder exposing her creamy, wet flesh. She looked as though she had just gotten dressed._

_He licked his lips and swallowed, taken aback by the vision standing before him and his own unwanted physical response._

_“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said after a painful silence._

_“I’m not okay,” he snapped, harsher than he’d intended._

_She straightened up and lifted her chin. He recognised the look – he’d seen her use it on her mother several times._

_“Why did you come?” she questioned, in her ‘ambassador voice’. She was trying to distance herself from him. It was useless. He knew her every move._

_“You know why.” He was tired of the charade. It was exhausting. Wouldn’t it be easier just to admit everything? “You can’t go through with this – this deal is a mistake,” he finally said._

_“It’s the only way,” she sounded tired too._

_He stepped closer to her, conscious of Octavia and Indra lurking not too far away._

_“You can’t just say what you said, leave and then… agree to something like this Clarke.”_

_At the revelation, she froze. Her eyes and mouth opened wide with shock._

_“You were in a coma! I didn’t think I would ever…” She stopped then and regained her composure, remembering where they were, and why. An all too familiar mask of indifference slid over her face and she swallowed. “I was being weak,” she said coldly. “This deal is worth the risk.”_

_Bellamy closed his eyes and sighed. He wasn’t going to play games any more. He decided he needed to take desperate action._

_Stepping up into her personal space, Bellamy grabbed her wrist and jerked her gently forward, just as a whooshing sound filled his ears._

_“Bellamy,” Clarke cried and slumped forward heavily into his embrace._

_He propped her up, saw the arrow embedded in her upper arm, spun his head around searching the woods, and then quickly dragged her to cover behind a huge cedar with creepers entwined around the trunk._

_Indra took one look at the arrow and growled._

_“Azgeda,” she declared. ”It will be poisoned. We need to get her back.”_

_“So much for your union,” Octavia sneered, as they lifted Clarke onto the back of Bellamy’s horse._

_Back at the tower they patched her up. Roan willingly provided the antidote they needed, despite Bellamy’s harsh accusations as they carried Clarke into the building._

_“This had nothing to do with me,” the Ice Nation King vowed. He should have known he’d see Bellamy again, especially now._

_The clans argued incessantly over the attack on Clarke. Those who had been pro Skaikru called for Azgeda blood and those who had been pro the Ice Nation claimed they had been set-up._

_Clarke believed Roan, but she wasn’t satisfied with the fact that his people were trying to destroy the union._

_“Skaikru will not commit to a King who does not have the loyalty of his own people,” she decreed in front of the clans. “I call on Azgeda to expose the traitors in their midst and deal with them as is their way. Until they can clear their ranks of radicals then there shall be no union!”_

_The chamber erupted with cries of consensus, as the clans descended on Roan._

_Some of the ambassadors began to chant her name. “Wanheda! Wanheda!”_

_Her guards encircled her as the crowd surged forward, pushing her towards the throne._

_Bellamy stepped backwards, into the shadows._

_Clarke looked for him frantically in the chaos of the crowd but he had already ducked out of the room into the hall._

_Octavia found him bracing his hands on his knees in the corridor, as if he couldn’t breathe._

_“What are you doing?” She seethed between her teeth. “Go back in there and get her.”_

_Bellamy stood up and clenched his jaw._

_“She’s not coming home Octavia. She’s made her choice.”_

_By the time they returned to Arkadia they had received news that Clarke had been appointed “acting” Commander of the coalition._

_It was then that Bellamy began his dangerous downward spiral – indulging in a self-loathing so impenetrable not even Octavia could break through._

_His out of control drinking, screwing around, insubordination  and mindless brawling was harming his reputation amongst the Arkadians and destroying what little morale was left amongst the remaining 100._

_Finally, it was Kane who came up with a solution and approached Bellamy after he’d gotten into a senseless melee with a visiting Azgedian who had made the mistake of questioning the acting commander’s honour._

_Not long after, the homestead was born._


	20. Bellamy & Clarke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was meant to be the final chapter but I couldn’t fit it all into 1000 or even 2000 words! I’m really bad at endings and this has taken me forever to write, so I hope you like it. Thank-you for all your support and please keep it coming. I’m a little nervous about these last two chapters. I hope I do the characters and the story justice, let me know how you feel ‘bout it! :D

Late in the evening, well after everyone had feasted until their stomachs were full and danced until their feet hurt, Bellamy stood back from the bonfire, nursing a drink and surveying the revellers from the obscurity of the shadows.

After Lincoln and Octavia had left, the music and goodwill cascaded out of the homestead hall down to the community fire circle where many of the residents and guests continued to celebrate. Some had slipped off into the night to sleep, others to elope.

Young children lay on the ground with blankets curled around them like cocoons. The older kids danced or played with fire sticks, their laughter and loud howls sometimes heard above the stirring string of music.

Bellamy felt warm - from the inside out, but not settled.

Despite being a terrible dancer, he had danced a number of times. Once with Raven, once with Abby and many with Leila, one of Lincoln’s orphaned Trikru students.

Leila giggled as he twirled her around, even when the dance didn’t call for it, or when he made funny faces as they passed each other or met in the middle to clap hands.

Ten years old and already one of their best trappers, Leila often accompanied him on his out of hours hunting trips. She had taught him a thing or two.

He had danced a number of times, but not with the one person he might have actually asked to dance, because Clarke was not there.

Marcus had seen her three days ago when he left the capital after a week of arduous assemblies for the final preparation of the constitution.

He confirmed that she would be coming for the union.

Octavia only huffed when she realised Clarke was not in attendance at the ceremony, but to Bellamy’s dismay he caught her checking in on _him_ once or twice, concern etched into her eyes. He didn’t want her worrying on her big day, so he lied and said that Clarke had sent word that she would be late.

In his heart he hoped it were true.

For a while, Bellamy stepped away from the celebrations at the fire to help Harper and the kitchen crew tidy up, returning with them a little later and observing as their presence re-ignited the party.

As he watched his people, he felt a growing unease that _he_ was being watched and sensed a presence by the edge of the forest. He slunk away from the fire, trying not to alarm his friends.

He saw the lightness of her hair before the features of her face were illuminated by the dim glow of the moon.

She was beautiful.

It had been a long six months of never seeing that face.

His body ached with anticipation.

When he got closer he realised there was an air of apology surrounding her.

“I’m sorry I missed the ceremony,” were her first words to him.

He was tired of hearing her say she was sorry.

 “You’re here now,” he said, and saying it aloud soothed him.

When she spoke again it sounded as if she were in pain. “Please give my blessing to Lincoln and Octavia.”

“Give it to them yourself,” he said quickly. “In the morning – when you see them.”

Clarke looked away, beyond him. 

Bellamy blinked and shook his head in disappointment recognising her body language. “You’re not staying.”

“There’s just so much to do…the signing is in two days. I didn’t expect it to be so busy,” she sighed. “I have to get back.” Clarke hung her head, unable to look him in the eye. “I just… I needed to see you… I needed to…”

They were interrupted by someone crashing through the short growth that marked the border between the clearing and the wood.

“Bellamy! What are you doing all the way over here, we’re about to…” Marcus stopped when he saw the figure standing in the dark of the trees. “Clarke?” he questioned, his face spreading into a giant smile. He embraced her. “Clarke! You made it!” His smile spread even further, if that were possible. “Big week,” he muttered.

Clarke nodded.

“Have you eaten?” Marcus gestured towards the fire. “Harper and the kitchen crew created the most incredible feast. There’s an abundance of leftovers.”

“She’s leaving,” Bellamy quipped, more bitter than he had intended.

“Nooo…” Marcus drawled dramatically. “You can’t leave. If your mother finds out you were here and you didn’t see her, she’ll… she’ll stop me from coming to the signing!” His face took on a look of grave seriousness. “Now that would be catastrophic! No Skaikru signature? Do you really want that kind of chaos on your hands after everything you’ve done to make this happen?” he implored with moonshine induced wide eyes.

Clarke couldn’t help but grin.

She’d never seen Marcus tipsy before. It made her feel even sorrier that she’d missed such a momentous occasion.

She had missed so much already.

Clarke stole a glance at Bellamy who was looking down at the ground with a wry grin on his face. When he felt her gaze he lifted his eyes to her eyes, daring her to defy Marcus.

“Yeah Princess,” he said the nickname affectionately and only so she could hear. “Do you really want that kind of chaos on your hands?” he taunted.

Clarke took in a deep breath and let it out again, allowing herself to be overruled by emotion. It didn’t happen very often, she had to admit.

“Nash,” she called quietly over her shoulder. “Stable the horses and come join us around the fire. We’ll spend the night here on the ranch and return with the Skaikru assembly tomorrow morning.”

Nash nodded and led the animals away, leaving Clarke in the company of the two men beside her. Marcus draped his arm across her shoulders casually and guided her to the glowing light of the fire and the faces of her friends.

For a moment, Bellamy hung back, as if expecting her to change her mind, turn around and leave again. Once he was satisfied she was staying he scooted after them with a smile that reached his eyes.

After being welcomed by the crowd and greeted with more hugs than she thought she had the heart for, Clarke spent the next fifteen minutes catching up with her mother. It wasn’t long before Raven returned from the dark with Wick by her side, spotted her friend, gasped with glee and pulled Clarke up on her feet.

“You are soooo… dancing with me,” she decreed in excitement and then proceeded to chastise her about not showing up for the ceremony and how pissed Octavia was and how she was going to cop a tongue lashing and the biggest stink eye in the morning. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Raven sung in her ‘I told you so’ tone of voice.

Bellamy was already jigging around the fire with Leila. She had dragged him into the circle again as soon as he came back from the shadows, a huge grin on her face at having caught him off guard.

“I want another dance,” she cried.

“You want _another_ one,” he laughed in mock exasperation.

It was a progressive dance, where the outer circle of people spun from one partner to the next, skipped through some steps and then continued on to the next person and the next, around and around until the song finished.

“I see you have a fan,” Clarke said when they met the first time around the circle. She nodded at Leila, who was happily partnered with Harper, for now.

Bellamy clasped her hand with his and shrugged. “Actually, I’m _her_ fan. Kid has skills.”  

On the third time they met in the circle Bellamy and Clarke were just about to begin the quick choreography, when the song changed suddenly and the music became slower.

Clarke looked up to see Raven had left the dance and was talking to the instrumentalists, with her eye on the two of them.

She winked and Clarke shot her an exaggerated glower.

For a second the two former co-leaders stood looking at each other awkwardly as all the other couples stepped in close and cosy to their partners.  

Finally, Bellamy nudged forward and she felt his chest press against hers, his thighs radiating heat.

“I was just getting those steps,” he grizzled, “and they go and change the song.”

Clarke snorted, and then breathed in sharply as one of his hands found hers and the other her waist. His arms guided her close and he swayed her into the steps.

Apparently he knew this dance.

 “I didn’t think you were coming,” he admitted more seriously after a short silence of slow moving in sync with one another.

“I hope you didn’t sulk through the _entire_ ceremony,” she teased.

He shifted his hand on her waist further down the small of her back, pressed his hips closer into hers and extended his head towards the side of her neck, smirking at her sharp intake of breath.

“Brave, Princess,” his mouth was so near to her ear that she could hear the corners of his lips curl up and feel his breath on her flesh. “Remember, I’m leading this dance and I can make you do whatever the hell I want.”

“Is that right?” she questioned flirtatiously, looking up at him through her long eyelashes.

“That’s right,” he said and curled the fingers of his outstretched hand into hers, slowly dragging them down the delicate skin between her digits.

Clarke shuddered and her knees would have buckled beneath her if it were not for Bellamy pressing his hand on her back and his body even harder into her, to hold her up.

She might have been grateful except that he was chuckling into her hair, bemused by her reaction.

They danced and danced until there was nobody left dancing but them. Eventually the music stopped and they dropped their arms but never quite let go of each other, reluctant to lose the moment.

Their story was a montage of lost moments.

“The signing is the day after tomorrow,” Clarke said finally after a long silence, remembering their soft exchange of assurances at the summer solstice.

“Yeah,” Bellamy shifted his weight from side to side. “Good timing.”

She smiled.

“It’s just two more days,” she whispered, as if telling the world would take it away from them. What was two days with all that they had waited?

Bellamy swallowed.

“Two days,” he repeated, not looking at her, because looking at her would mean betraying himself.

He so desperately wanted to lean forward and part her mouth with his, but he remembered what a disaster that was last time.

Instead he licked his lips.

“You’re a saint, you know that right?” she snorted, calling him on his hesitation.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He lifted his eyes to her then, and wished he hadn’t - she looked utterly audacious. 

“If it were up to me, Bellamy Blake, I would have dragged you to your quarters that night at the summer solstice and had my way with you.”

His mouth dropped.

“Is that right?” It came out a lot more choked than he’d hoped. He coughed and she laughed.

Her laugh sounded so _good_.

“Yeah…that’s right.”

“I’m no saint,” he said wistfully, and somehow they were serious again. “You know that.”

Clarke became acutely aware that their hands were still joined. He had been rubbing small circles in her wrists since the music stopped and it felt so reassuring, so natural, that she’d hardly even noticed.

“We’ve both done things Bellamy,” she had meant to soothe the sudden change of mood, but her words were too much a token of a time gone by.

Bellamy stepped behind and broke their touch, bringing them back to where they were before.

Or so he thought.

Clarke had other ideas.


	21. Bellamy & Clarke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! I hope it is all you anticipated. I’m really anxious about putting this out there – one because I’ve never finished a fic this long before, two because I suck at endings and three because of the sex scene. I hope it’s not terrible. Thank-you for all your support along the way I have loved reading your comments and I’m so pleased so many of you have enjoyed the ride.

She didn’t want this night to end.

For a few hours she’d been able to forget about her responsibilities and everything that had happened. She’d been able to enjoy the moment and accept everything that she was - before anticipating what came next, and being who everyone _needed_ her to be.

But a few hours were not enough. Even with only two days to go. She needed more. Ever since the summer solstice when she had tasted the future on Bellamy’s lips, nothing was ever enough.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said steadfastly and businesslike, gesturing with her head as she walked away from the fire.

He followed.

The next thing he knew they were in the work shed.

“Clarke…” he started but she cut him off.

“I’m not going to be Commander anymore,” she blurted out, her body lifting with exhilaration at the revelation.

“What? You can’t just throw everything away Clarke... what about the homestead?”

“It’s okay Bellamy. We have the constitution. And we have Luna.”

“Luna? From the boat people?” He scrunched his eyebrows together, uncertain what Lincoln’s friend had to do with anything. 

“She’s a nightblood. The _last_ nightblood.” It felt so good to finally tell somebody her plans - to tell _him_ her plans.

“She’s a nightblood? _”_ he repeated slowly, the cogs clicking into place.

“We tried to find her, after Ontari and Pike, when you were…” her eyes raked to the scar on his neck where Pike had continuously shock batoned him on the dropship. The image of him lying in a coma as she left for Polis still haunted her.

“It’s okay Clarke,” he said softly, seeing the pained expression on her face. He vaguely remembered Octavia telling him about Lincoln’s mission. But he was never privy to the details.

“Luna has agreed to become Heda and things will be very different under her command Bellamy. Luna is a pacifist. She doesn’t believe in ‘blood must have blood.’ She fled the conclave to escape a life of war and senseless killing.”

“W-what about you?” His voice hung at the end of his question – suspended on the edge of hope and longing. “What will you do?”

“I never wanted to be Commander, Bellamy.” Clarke stepped towards him her voice reassuringly gentle and yet full of firm resolve. “I did that for our people. Now I don’t have to.” She took his hand again, and held it like they had at the fire. “I want to be with you. I want to be _here_ with you, at the homestead.”

His hand curled around hers and he pulled her into him, pressing his chest against hers, close, like when they were dancing.

“I want to be with you too,” he rasped hoarsely, his breath on her mouth, his lips opens and inches away.

“Then let’s be…together,” she whispered and kissed his lips.

“Clarke,” he cried opening her mouth with his.

She moaned into him, not knowing where her hands were or what they were doing. It was feverish and fast, not like the last time, some six months ago. That was just a taste, this was anything but chaste. Her hands were all over him touching his face, his hair, his neck. Oh, how she had hungered to touch him. Their bodies were pressed together hard, his chest, his abs, the tops of his legs pressed into her, drawn against her like there was some kind of magnetic force fastening them together. Yet she still longed to be closer, to drink him in, absorb him, soak him up.

She needed him. She needed him inside her.

He pushed her down gently and she fell back onto a stack of carefully baled grass, never letting go of him, holding him close to her, their lips remaining locked. He was on top of her, his legs nudging her legs apart then he was between her legs, grinding into her. She lifted her hips and ground into him, groaning and crying his name into his mouth as he groaned and cried back. She didn’t know how they got their clothes off but soon she lay under him half naked. He kissed her harder and his hands… god his hands, his hands slid under her bra and he was fingering her nipples and breathing her name.

“Oh…Clarke,” he cried, tugging off her underwear first and then his and she unhooked her hands and let go of his neck only to touch him, to feel his need for her hard in her hands, to hold him, all of him.

He swore.

And then he stopped.

He looked down at her starry eyed and eager, startled by the speed and ferocity of their yearning.

“Are you okay Clarke?” he choked out. “Is this okay?”

As if he needed to ask.

“Yes, Bellamy, yes,” she moaned for more, thrusting her hips up and he groaned as she rubbed against him. She didn’t know where the blanket came from but he was laying it down beneath her and then his fingers were on her folds, feeling that she was wet and spreading her wetness over her and over him, and then he was in, pushing gently at first as she relaxed around him and then thrusting harder, filling her with him when she begged for more. “Please Bellamy, _please_.”

Clarke tried to hold onto something but there was nothing but him, he thrust so fast, pressing against her, rubbing against her as he drove into her, her fingers digging into his skin. He was so hard and she was so wet and god she had wanted this for so long all she could do was call his name and try to remember to breathe beneath him.

He thrust so fast, she keened up into him, and when she was close he slowed down. His fingers found her clit and rubbed rhythmically, as he slid in and out of her laboriously, throwing her over the edge quickly. She came in waves and he kept going, picking up his pace again until he came too, crashing into her, all messy curls, freckles and sweat sheened skin.

 “Clarke,” he said, still panting. Smiling. Crying. “ _I love you, Clarke_.”

Clarke closed her eyes and smiled back, and then she cried too, a steady stream of tears rolling down her cheek. She cried as she held onto his back, hooking her legs around him and keeping him close. She cried as she curled her fingers in his hair and Bellamy touched her cheek and said something soothing but she didn’t hear him because all she could hear was an overwhelming sound inside her. She didn’t know what it was but it was loud.

Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy it beat.

“Hmm?” she asked softly.

“I’ve loved you for so long,” his muffled voice filtered through to her as he kissed her tears away. “Long before you said it, when you thought I was gone.”

She opened her eyes, not wanting to be reminded of his lifeless form lying in the clinic in Arkadia. She had whispered _I love you_ then, because she thought she’d never see him again, and they couldn’t end with those words unsaid.

She had no idea he had felt the same.

“How long?” she murmured, gently dragging her fingers up and down his arm.

He groaned and rolled off her, grabbing the edge of the blanket and wrapping it around them both, so that she slipped onto her side, into him. They lay face to face with their bodies entwined, hearts thudding in time.

“I don’t know exactly,” he kissed her forehead and her eyes fluttered closed again. “But I think it hit me when you left, after Mt Weather.” He kissed her eyelids and she sighed.

So much had happened since then.

She smoothed her hands up his back to the mangled burn scar on his shoulder and he shuddered beneath her soft fingers before kissing across her cheek bone to nibble at her ear.

“You’ve saved my life so many times,” she moaned as he sucked on the softness of her lobe. “I feel responsible for all these scars,” she kissed the one on his neck, and trailed her hand up his thigh to the smooth skin where Roan had stabbed him.

“You saved mine tonight,” he grinned, gasping as her fingers sketched patterns up his pelvis. “If you hadn’t kissed me I think I would have self-combusted.”

She laughed, and _oh_ how he loved that sound.

They made love again and then slept - Bellamy’s soft snores singing her to sleep in the safety of his arms.

In the morning she found him sitting barefoot in his shirt and pants, his hands braced on his thighs as he looked out over the ranch at the thin morning mist rolling in.

She pulled the blanket he must have found by the fire side around her shoulders, and waddled over, draping her hands down his chest and resting them on his heart. She leant her chin on his shoulder and placed a soft kiss to his jaw, just as he reached up and rubbed her arms tenderly.

“Want to go for a walk?” he asked, somewhat sheepishly. “It’s kinda my thing, in the morning.”

She beamed at him.

They strolled hand in hand around the paddock border, just as he had imagined they would, every day for the last six months.

The smile never left Bellamy’s eyes.

Around them the sun woke, waking up the world at the same time. Birds emerged from the green trees and bushes, busying themselves with the morning’s events.

Clarke lifted her face to the icy fresh breeze nipping across the field, welcoming the sting of it on her cheeks.

It reminded her of the first time she had stepped off the dropship onto Earth.

How different they were from then.

She gazed at Bellamy and was filled with an immense sense of accomplishment and hope. Over the past six months they had achieved so much.

They were not alone now.

There would always be reminders of their suffering all around them. They themselves were emblazoned with pain, but there was also wonder in their world and her heart grew with gratitude for the beauty of all things heavenly and earthly but most of all, for the ability to appreciate them.

The Homestead had created that for them. It was here that Bellamy had found himself and here that they had found each other. It was here that they would create their future.

They were never safe - nothing was ever certain, and yet with the two of them together, in this place, with their people, she knew they could do more than just survive.

She knew they could finally begin to thrive.


End file.
